Potternatural
by pink.chocolate.unicorn
Summary: Sam and Dean meet Bobby's new 'friend', Harry Potter. And the stranger is just full of surprises. (Rated M. Slash. HP/BS. Warnings listed in first chapter.)
1. Chapter 1

_(A/N: Rated __**M**__ for mature content and language. _

_I'm a bit nervous to dip my toe into the Supernatural fandom... but this popped in my head and... I don't know, I guess I couldn't _not_ write it. So, here it is. I present my Harry Potter-Supernatural Cross-over fic._

_Er, just a heads up; I might go off canon a bit (for both fandoms). I'm probably gonna have to make some stuff up and tweak a bit here and there to bring them together in a semi-coherent way. I'll try to keep it realistic... but I think there will have to be a little bending here and there to meld the two worlds. I'm gonna just wildly stab at a time-line and say this takes place about season five (?), but this won't really take anything from a particular episode so the time-line isn't all that important. (Hopefully there aren't going to be any major spoilers... and if so; Sorry!)_

_And yes; it's _really_ a Bobby Singer/Harry Potter SLASH fic. _I know_. But for some reason, they worked quite well in my imagination. Hopefully it's not going to be completely... uhm... gross. Heh. So, keep in mind if you continue: Bobby. Harry. _Slash_. Yup, seriously. (There might be some hints of Destiel [not sure just how into that I'll get, though I totally ship the hell outta that], but it'll be in mention/innuendo only. I'll give a holler if that changes.)_

_Overall warnings: MalexMale slash. Smut. Language. Mentions of demons/angels/religion (not always favorably). Death. Blood/Gore. Violence... you know, all the good Supernatural stuff._

_Enjoy! :))_

* * *

"And then when you ganked tha—"

Dean paused mid sentence, both speaking and walking, as he entered Bobby's living room. He barely even noticed Sam crashing into his back, nearly knocking him over and sending them both on their asses. His eyes went wide and his mouth went slack as he took in the sight before him. He vaguely noted Sammy leaning around him a little with a confused "Dean?" before he too went still.

Normally, he'd laugh at the squeaking little squawk sound his brother made, but being as how he nearly made the same sound, he kept quiet. And he was stunned stupid.

Bobby (at least, from what he could see of the man, he was _pretty_ sure it was Bobby) was sitting in one of his comfy armchairs. Someone was straddling his lap and kissing the ever-lovin' daylights out of the older hunter. The wet, distinctive sounds of a heated make-out session were hard to mistake. And completely unexpected.

It _had_ to be Bobby, even if it was hard to believe. Who else would be sitting in Bobby's chair? In Bobby's living room? IN Bobby's house? And those looked like Bobby's hands...

It took almost an entire minute for the realization to dawn that the someone in Bobby's lap was decidedly _male;_ The denim clad hips were narrow. The lightly defined back muscles moving fluidly (and yeah—erotically) were too masculine to be a woman's. The black hair was short and messy—a haphazard cut no girl would ever be caught dead in. And the soft moans that weren't Bobby's (Ugh_... ew_) were deep pitched.

Yup; definitely a dude. Which just made all sorts of questions and exclamations stampede through Dean's head.

_Holy fuck. When did Bobby get with a guy? Holy shit! How long had Bobby been making out with a guy? OH MY GOD! Why was Bobby with a guy?!_

"Holy shit!" Dean practically yelled when his paralysis broke. He grimaced when the guy straddling Bobby went still (thankfully, so did Bobby's hands on the dude's ass) and turned his head towards him. There was a flicker of surprise in wide green eyes but also recognition, too. He scowled, suddenly uncomfortable to be recognized by a complete stranger. Who the hell _was_ this guy? He blinked when the guy turned around again and let his head rest on Bobby's shoulder. He really didn't want to know where the dude's hands were now that they've untangled from Bobby's hair and disappeared from sight.

He blinked again, a few times, when he realized he could see Bobby's _hair_. OK, that was just too damn weird.

"Uhhh— Bobby?"

Bobby muttered a curse, gave Harry an apologetic look and leaned around him to glare at the cock-blocking Winchester boys. "What?" he grunted, not even bothering to hide his annoyance (and frustration). He slammed his cap back on, retrieving it from his knee where Harry had placed it when they got down to kissin' in earnest.

"Uh—" Dean said intelligently, his eyes flicking between Bobby's annoyed face and the dark-haired guy's back. He wasn't sure why but he was more comfortable with the situation before he knew the guy was... well, _a guy_. (He honestly didn't begrudge Bobby a little action; the dude's had the longest dry spell of anyone he's ever known.) The still form perched in Bobby's lap looked young, too. Like, creepily young in comparison to Bobby. Hell, he even looked younger than Sammy. Kinda gross, really. "What the hell is goin' on?"

Bobby grunted with annoyance but didn't shift Harry any. He didn't _want_ to and he was even less looking forward to the Winchesters seeing his lap at the moment. "What the hell does it _look like_ is goin' on?" he asked gruffly. He didn't appreciate being questioned in his own damn house. And it wasn't like either of the Winchesters were blushing virgins (the less said about Dean's heavily notched belt, the better); both knew damn well what was goin' on and he was pissed they interrupted. What a waste of a good boner.

"Sorry!" Sammy said loudly, finally getting use of his vocal chords back and overriding whatever rude thing Dean was, no doubt, going to say. He knew his brother wouldn't apologize, even though they really should for interrupting. "We didn't know," he said apologetically.

Even in his confusion and shock, he felt bad for intruding in on a private moment. And not just because it was getting steadily more awkward as everything sunk in. He had wanted to call first but Dean had practically smacked his phone out of his hand when he tried. He couldn't help shooting his brother a smug 'told you so' look, smirking a little when Dean just rolled his eyes and looked away with a grunting huff as he crossed his arms over his chest.

Bobby grunted again. "Of course you didn't, freakin' idjits..."

He sighed, annoyed he hadn't heard the Impala's grumbling engine (he musta been really caught up in Harry not to've heard _that_) and he almost regretted the open-door policy he had with John's boys. He never cared when they showed up. Before now. And just his luck, too, it would be smack dab in the middle of Harry lovin' on him. Well, at least they didn't catch him or Harry in a further state of indecency... which, in another few minutes they would have. There's something to be said for small favors.

He patted Harry gently on the butt and he smiled a little in thanks when the younger man carefully climbed off of his lap. He raised an eyebrow, concerned Harry hadn't said a word yet. And he was doing that nervous shifting thing, the inside of his bottom lip being gnawed on by his teeth. He didn't know why Harry thought it was unnoticeable, thinking he was hiding that little sign of his nerves, so he didn't point it out or stare too long.

Bobby sighed, annoyed all over again at the Winchesters for interrupting _and_ making Harry feel awkward. He hadn't seen Harry this awkward in his home since the first time he walked through the door, warily looking around waiting for a trap to spring. Damn Winchesters were—to borrow a phrase from Harry—bloody wankers. But Harry being quiet wasn't that odd an occurrence; the younger man was normally a man of few words.

He probably liked that the most about Harry (right after his ass and the shamelessly direct way he spoke when he _did_ say something); he didn't prattle on or babble endlessly about inane topics. He could have a quiet, comfortable silence with the younger man for hours and it was nice. Peaceful.

"Er... Shall I wait outside?" Harry asked, looking only at Bobby. He could feel the intense gaze on his back from the Winchesters but he wasn't going to look at them just yet. He didn't want to even introduce himself until he got some sort of hint from Bobby. They'd spoken about Dean and Sam, of course, but he hadn't expected to meet them just yet. And by the looks of Bobby, he hadn't either.

He knew it would happen someday; he just hadn't expected to be caught straddling Bobby and writhing around like a crup in heat at the time, though. It was a little embarrassing, honestly. He reckoned it had to be akin to walking in on one's parents, only a little worse...

Bobby sighed, pinching his cap between his thumb and index finger as he ran the rest of his fingers through his hair. He rubbed at his forehead and settled his cap back on with a huff. "Yeah, that's probably a good idea. For now," he added, making it clear he didn't want Harry to leave. He pulled Harry in closer, pitching his voice low so only the wizard could hear him, "I won't tell 'em about ya... not everything," he said with a pointed look. Harry just nodded, a small understanding smile quirking the corner of his lips. "But I will share just a little, 'cause they're gonna be sniffin' for answers like the nosy bastards they are."

"Yeah, I know. It's fine," Harry said and gently ran his fingertips over Bobby's cheek, just above his beard. He gave the older man a small smile, "I'll wander back in an hour for dinner, yeah?" Bobby just nodded. He stood upright and finally turned around, regarding the Winchesters with a carefully blank expression.

He knew quite a bit about the two men standing in front of him, still a bit wide-eyed and gaping like idiots. He had actually looked forward to meeting them (well, Sam at least; everything Bobby had told him about the younger Winchester had reminded him strongly of Hermione) and, at the moment, he wasn't sure how that was going to go. He nearly turned to glare at Bobby; the overwhelming height of both men was conveniently left out of Bobby's descriptions. As well as the fact they were both bloody gorgeous. (Not that Bobby would notice _that_.)

The surprise of the situation alone made for an awkward first meeting. All in all, he was thankful he wasn't meeting them with a bulge in his jeans (it having successfully been chased off, thank Merlin). He looked between the two brothers, feeling decidedly short. He was 5'5" or so (5'7" in his sturdiest boots, thankyouverymuch) and both Winchesters positively dwarfed him. He was used to being the shortest bloke in a bunch, though, and it didn't intimidate him as much as they were probably hoping for. He subtly fingered his wand, unable to help himself, when he took in Dean's expression. He couldn't exactly read it, but it wasn't a pleasant one. Or welcoming.

He cleared his throat and looked up at the youngest Winchester, immediately pegging him as the more rational one. Also, the more polite. "Hello. I'm Harry. Harry Potter," he said and extended a hand. He offered a small smile and it was returned, albeit a bit awkwardly.

"Sam Winchester," the taller brother said after moment of surprise. He slowly shook the smaller man's hand, keeping the weird tingling feeling he felt as their palms met, and again when they separated, to himself. It was odd... His shoulders tensed and he looked over at Bobby curiously when he noticed the older Hunter staring at him intently, almost as if he was expecting a reaction. "This is Dean," he said, placing a hand on his brother's shoulder. Both as indication and as a silent plea for his brother to be nice. He squeezed his hand gently, stressing 'please be nice' silently.

Dean's eyes flicked all over the younger man's face and body; from his utter mess of black hair (he _so_ didn't wanna know why it was all messy and looked like fingers had been through it—repeatedly) and down his scrawny body to his kick-ass boots. Up close the dude looked even younger. And shorter. What the hell was Bobby thinking? "What are you? Twelve?" he blurted out. He raised an eyebrow, not bothering to withdraw his question or back down. He hadn't meant to blurt it out but damn it, he wanted to know. He was still confused there was another guy here at all, let alone (apparently) sexing up Bobby.

It was weird to know Bobby had to trust the guy implicitly... otherwise he wouldn't be in his house. Or in his lap. He felt irritated to be meeting the guy _now _(and like _this_) since it was pretty damn likely they'd known each other awhile. At least he hoped to Christ they did. He didn't think he could handle it if Bobby had suddenly taken to bringing home strange twinks.

"No," Harry said, amusement heavy in his tone. He should probably be offended, both for himself and on Bobby's behalf (like the man would canoodle with someone under-aged!). He smirked and folded his arms over his chest as he raised his chin in a way that gave the impression he was looking down his nose at Dean, even as he was forced to look up. He mentally snickered, knowing it would've made Malfoy proud. "I'm nearly 30," he said and smirked, enjoying the stunned expressions on both Winchesters' faces. "Good genes," he added with a wink, as by way of explanation.

Sam looked between Harry and Bobby, both were amused and some underlying twinkle in their eyes that lead him to think there was more to it than just 'good genes'. A private joke, maybe. He didn't know what though... He blinked when Harry clapped his hands, the sound quite loud and sharp in the quiet room.

"Right," Harry said brightly. "I'll leave you lot to your happy reunion." And with that, he slipped past the Winchesters and was outside before anyone in the room even blinked.

He shook his head and walked the familiar path along the junked cars in Singer's Salvage Yard. He didn't know why he was drawn to the old Ford Fairlane, but whenever he needed some quiet space to think (or brood), it was where he went. He stroked a finger along the faded red paint, his finger leaving a trail in the fine dust covering the car. A quick cleaning charm banished the dust and grime that had accumulated since he had last sat in the car and he slid into the seat. He sighed heavily and just let his head flop backwards to rest on the headrest.

He hoped Bobby was alright. He didn't think there'd be an issue with Sam but from what he'd been told, Dean was quite the hothead. Quick to react with violence and loud shouts; that he saw the world in stark black and white. Things that were OK and things that needed to be Hunted. Witches, he knew, were on Dean's 'things that needed to be Hunted' list. He wondered if the elder Winchester would care his magic wasn't from a demon or any deals. (He couldn't explain _where_ it came from, if pressed for an answer. He was just born with it like any other wizard and witch.)

He knew Bobby could handle himself, but he knew the older man cared for those Winchesters like family—it would be a hard blow to recover from if they reacted negatively. As long as it was only shouting and not actually weapons being drawn, that is. He closed his eyes, feeling weighed down with the morose certainty there would be some issues to be worked through. He didn't know where he'd end up and he felt a little selfish to hope that if given an ultimatum, Bobby would choose him.

Or at least give it more than a few seconds thought before he was chucked out on his arse.

"Woah," Sam murmured, blinking a few times. "Uh."

He had questions whirling around his head, but most seemed rude to ask. Bobby's personal business was his own—he really didn't want to know more. But he was curious, dammit. How long had Bobby known Harry? How did they meet? Where did they meet? Why hadn't they met Harry before? They looked serious enough and he felt rather put-out to have not even heard about the guy before now. It wasn't reassuring to know Bobby was keeping things from them.

Bobby grunted and kicked a foot out, stretching his leg a bit. Harry wasn't exactly heavy but he was on the verge of his lower leg falling asleep from the younger man being perched in his lap the way he was. He gave a disgruntled look to the stunned Winchesters. Another few moments and he wouldn't have had to worry about a numb ass or legs. Damn idjits. "Out with it," he demanded in a low growl.

He looked between the Winchesters. He knew what they wanted to know. Trouble was, he didn't exactly have all the answers they'd want. He could explain a little about Harry; where he was from, how they met. But not exactly the nature of their relationship. He couldn't really explain his relationship with Harry, even if he tried. He knew he cared about Harry—hell, it was probably love at this point—but he wouldn't share that. That was between him and Harry.

Sometimes, it still struck him in a surreal way that he was even with the younger man. He had known the kid for years and he felt like a dirty old man when he had started to think of him in ways he had no business doin' (not that it stopped him). It had taken months for him to even admit, to himself, what he felt for the younger man went past friendship (or just an understanding like he had with any other Hunter he ever met and trusted enough to work with). It was new and completely unexpected. He had never noticed another man before like he had Harry. Ever.

He _still_ felt like a dirty old man at times. (Especially when Harry would be kissing on him or doing that thing with his hips or his tongue. He felt like a certifiable pervert when he'd watch Harry ride him with that blissed-out look on his sweet face and he loved every damn second of it.) That didn't stop him or keep him from Harry, either. Not that he had much say in it, really. Once Harry had gotten the hint that his feelings might be returned, he pretty much lost any chance of ever refusing the younger man. Harry was a stubborn force of nature that even the likes of one Bobby Singer couldn't hold up against.

And really, it wasn't so terrible. Except when he was interrupted by the boys currently staring at him like he had wings or horns or some crazy shit. As his thoughts circled back to the Winchesters, he scowled at them, waiting for the chuckle-heads to get on with their questions.

"What's with Tiny Tim?" Dean asked, jerking his thumb over his shoulder. He chuckled at his own joke, ignoring the pissy look Sam was trying to give him.

Bobby glared at the oldest Winchester and grunted. Damn idjit and his jokes. "That's Harry."

"Yeah, we totally got that was Harry," Dean said flatly. "Who the _hell_ is _Harry_?" he asked, cocking an eyebrow as he folded his arms over his chest. "And more importantly; why was he in your lap like an overgrown kitten?"

Bobby grunted and shook his head. "Harry is Harry," he said with a shrug. They hadn't defined their relationship and he wasn't about to go into that with Dean. He felt too damn old to be saying 'boyfriend' and 'partner' just sounded... off when they weren't Hunting together (well, Harry out Hunting after he'd dumped a shit-ton of research on the young man). He was content to just have him as his Harry and leave it at that. "And—" He smirked as he adjusted his cap again. "He was in my lap, Dean Winchester, because that's where I like 'im."

"But—" Dean sputtered for a few moments, his arms unfolding so his hand could flop around wildly. "He's a dude!"

Bobby grunted again and couldn't stop the smirk from widening a bit. "Yeah, I'm quite aware he's a dude," he said pointedly.

And really, he was. Once he got over that little issue, he found he enjoyed the fact Harry was a man. It took him awhile to get there, but he did in the end. It became less a matter of Harry being a man as he was... Harry. The first time he touched the younger man intimately, it surprised him how easy it had been—almost making him wanna slap himself for freakin' out and hesitating all those months. It really wasn't much different than jerkin' himself, speaking about the feel of a dick in his hand wise, but with much better results.

"Oh, gross!" Dean said and grimaced, looking away from the smug leer. There was just something wrong with the world when _Bobby_ made a sex face. "Bobby, don't make that face. Ever. Again."

Bobby chuckled lowly. "Can it Winchester. I ain't dead, and as such, I ain't gonna pretend you didn't see what you saw."

"That's fucked up on so many levels," Dean said, turning to Sam. "I actually understood what he just said." He snorted and flopped into a chair, moving his feet enough so Sam could shuffle past and sit down, too.

Sam just nodded, chuckling softly. He was less surprised of the _who_ (or the gender of the who) and more that there even _was_ a someone. Bobby had always seemed the type that would go to his grave without opening his heart again. He felt an odd sort of pride that Bobby hadn't let his ability to care about someone die with his wife, Karen. Bobby deserved a chance at happiness just like anyone else—it didn't happen often. He knew Dean would laugh at him for such a 'chick flick' thought, so he didn't voice it aloud. But he should probably mention it to Bobby at some point, even if it made the older hunter squirm and threaten to shoot him in the ass.

He perched his elbows on his knees and clasped his hands together, cocking his head a little as he looked at Bobby curiously. "So, Harry?" he asked, making it clear he wanted more details about the guy, not their... involvement.

"I knew his parents," Bobby said after a few moments thought. He had felt terrible to learn Harry's parents had died but by the time he found out about it, Harry was a teenager and already neck-deep in a world of shit he couldn't have helped with— even if he _had_ known about it. He shrugged a little at Sam's openly curious expression. "Good people."

Sam found himself across the room and sitting on the sofa nearest Bobby in a blink. He leaned forward, curiosity plain on his face. He ignored Dean's grunt of annoyance. "Were they Hunters, too?" He paused and his eyebrows pinched together. "Is Harry a Hunter?" he asked, his voice tinged with disbelief. Harry was tiny, even compared to normal people. And he was skinny—almost verging on puny, really. He couldn't imagine Harry being able to Hunt anything... at least, not successfully. But it was really the only explanation how he'd know Bobby so well in the first place.

"Yes and no," Bobby said carefully. He knew he wasn't going to give the Winchesters Harry's full back story; it wasn't his to tell and he honestly was a little afraid of how they'd react. Mostly Dean. That idjit usually acted first and thought later—if at all. Which always meant a gun in his hand and him shootin' something without a second thought. He couldn't say that sort of thing hadn't saved him or his brother's ass more than once, but he nearly shuddered at the mental image of Dean shoving a gun under Harry's chin...

"His parents were Hunters... more or less. But they were cops, of a sort. Harry—he is a Hunter, I guess you could say. Started really young, too."

He took his cap off and fiddled with the bill, averting his eyes from the Winchesters. He wasn't keen on showing either of 'em how he felt about that. It still made his gut clench with a useless sort of anger at the knowledge Harry was chucked in the shit when he was barely into doubt digits. It was so damn close to the Winchester boys' history—the pair of them thrown into the real world before they were old enough to wipe themselves. Sam was too observant for his own good and he didn't want to answer anything like that about Harry without the young man present. He knew how much it bothered the wizard to be talked about...

He also knew Harry hated the reason he got into Hunting (not that they all didn't have painfully personal reasons) but the younger man had a knack for it that was uncanny. Preternatural. Not only did Harry excel with his magic (even making up a few spells or hexes on his own) but he was damn skilled with any weapon he got his hands on. He had nearly pissed himself the first time he saw Harry—the kid was taking on a werewolf with only his reflexes and a silver dagger. It somewhat allayed his fears that the wizard could handle himself but still... No one wanted to see someone they care about in that sort of situation.

Dean looked a little impressed, despite himself. His thoughts mirrored Sam's; Harry was too puny to fight anything off. How did he manage to not get himself killed already? Maybe he was one of those guys that learned to use his midgetness to his advantage; shooting kneecaps or kicking out people's legs or punching them in the balls. "And?" he asked, when Bobby didn't continue. "How the hell does _that_ lead to him sucking your face?"

"That ain't none of your concern, Dean."

Dean snorted and rolled his eyes. "Yeah, probably not. But, man, Bobby... You gotta see how messed up this is. You're suddenly into guys? _Young_ guys? How long you been with him, anyway?" he asked, his eyes narrowing. It couldn't have been more than a few weeks since they'd been to Bobby's and this was the first they'd heard about _Harry_. And they looked way too cozy with each other to be in a new... thing. He wanted to bleach his brain at the very idea of the words 'Bobby' and 'thing' being connected.

"Almost a year," Bobby said with a grunt. Obviously he had known the wizard longer but they only got serious about each other a little under a year ago. He didn't think either boy needed to hear about them tap-dancing around each other another year or so before that. A man is allowed some secrets (especially if they saved two idjit's sanity and his dignity).

"But... We've never met him before."

Bobby nodded, adjusting his cap again. "Yeah, I know that. Ain't no reason for you two to have met him before. Harry doesn't live around here, but he visits on occasion." Though, Harry's 'occasions' had been a lot more frequent the past few months, which he liked more than he was willing to admit, and he was actually surprised this situation hadn't come up already.

"He shy or somethin'?" Dean asked with a smirk.

Bobby glared and leaned forward, his elbows on his knees and his hands clasped together. "I 'spose you could say that. He's not had the best luck with strangers," he said with a wry smile. "Look, I woulda mentioned him if I had thought about it. I didn't," he said unapologetically. He scowled a little; he didn't owe either of them an explanation.

"Why not? You guys looked... close," Sam said, hesitating a moment at the end. It wasn't just the intimate way Harry had been sitting on Bobby but their body language. Even though he only saw them interact that little bit, it wasn't hard to miss the two Hunters were indeed close, in all sorts of ways. He didn't exactly buy that Bobby didn't 'think about' Harry...

Bobby nodded and rubbed a hand over his face irritably. "Yeah, we are. That don't mean I'm gonna go blabbing about my personal business like we're a buncha girls having a slumber party."

"No," Sam said quickly, ignoring Dean's elbow in his ribs and his muttered 'yeah, _Samantha_'. "I didn't mean that. I just meant... Like—" He looked to Dean for help and huffed when his brother only smirked at him and shrugged. He glared when Dean made a show of making himself comfortable, staying unhelpfully silent as he folded his hands behind his head and leaned back like a douche. He looked back to Bobby. "I just meant that if you guys were close, we should have met. You know? It seems like your hiding him... or us..." he said, his shoulders slumping a bit.

The thought that Bobby might be ashamed of him (or Dean) kinda hurt. They were practically family. He could admit both of them had given Bobby a few reasons to be, if it were the case. He couldn't seem to help it, his face moved into a puppy-eyed look that had Bobby cursing and whipping his cap off with a grunt.

"Stop that!" Bobby scolded, annoyed Sam was manipulating him... or at least trying to. "It ain't like that. So quit yer bitchin' and just accept that you're meetin' 'im _now_."

Sam nodded, settling back in his chair and thinking over what little they had been told about Harry. "So, are his parents dead?" he asked slowly, getting that impression from how Bobby had spoken of them earlier. Bobby nodded. "Killed by something?" Another nod. "That sucks," he said softly, knowing how it felt to have one's parents murdered. "And he's a Hunter?" he asked, wanting to be sure of the answer (Bobby's answers so far being kinda vague). If he was, they wouldn't have to tiptoe around the guy if he stuck around.

"Basically," Bobby grunted. Harry did Hunt but he seemed to flit between the regular world and magical worlds when it came to ganking the supernatural baddies. Unsurprisingly, he had a special knack when it came to magical creatures. Which was handy because most were fuckin' terrifying and hard to kill without that extra mojo. "He's... stronger than he looks," he said, scowling when both Winchesters gave him looks that said 'yeah, right'. He held up his hands, leaning back in chair with a sharp smile. "Fine, suit yourselves. But don't come cryin' to me when he hands you your asses should you be stupid enough to test him."

And maybe it was a little mean, but he hoped Dean would test Harry. Dean needed to be thumped—_hard_— sometimes for shit to sink in. And he really wouldn't mind seeing Harry doing his thing, either. He snickered; Harry wouldn't even need a weapon or his wand, neither.

Dean snorted, rolling his eyes. Sure. Like Tiny Tim could touch him. He chuckled when Bobby gave him that 'you'll see' look and he just shook his head. He elbowed Sam, "You wanna break the bad news or should I?"

"It's not bad news, Dean," Sam said with a long suffering sigh. His face screwed up into what Dean liked to call his Bitch Face Number Four, but his brother had earned the look. Numerous times. "It's really not," he said to Bobby when the older Hunter leaned forward, looking a little worried. Bad news to Hunters was generally _really_ bad for normal circumstances. And for them? End-of-the-world sort of shit. He smacked Dean's arm, "Stop freakin' Bobby out!"

Dean rubbed his arm and glared at his brother. Damn that stung! "Well, it's bad news to _me_," he said petulantly.

"For the love of—! Someone tell me what is goin' on!" Bobby yelled, interrupting the brothers making faces and slapping at each other like a pair of five-year-olds.

Dean was still rubbing his arm, Sammy didn't bother to pull his smack at all, the freakin' Sasquatch! "That diner with the best pie? You know, the best pie, _ever_?" Bobby nodded, his brows slowly pinching together. "Burned down," he said mournfully. He actually felt the urge to tear up but he didn't. He wasn't going to start bawling his eyes out over pie like some girl. No matter how good it was. The fire wasn't supernatural in nature—just one of them shitty luck sorta things. The best pie. Ever. _Gone_ just because some jackhole left a fryer on.

"Why am I not surprised you'd consider that bad news," Bobby said blandly, glaring at Dean. He looked up when the front door clicked closed but he didn't see Harry enter the room. He smiled a little when he heard light footsteps head towards the kitchen and he hoped Harry would find something in the 'fridge. He wasn't ashamed to list Harry's cooking was high on the list of 'Things I Love About Harry'—the wizard's cooking was magic (uhm, pun intended). "What?" he grumbled, noticing the Winchesters staring at him.

Sam and Dean both shook their heads. "Nothin'," they said at the same time. Dean stood and retrieved his bag from where he dropped it by the front door. "Well, as fun as this has been—" He smirked. "I'm gonna go settle in." He went up the stairs, not even bothering to see what Sam was going to do. He figured he'd nerd out some more and he really didn't need to stay around for that.

"Whatever," Bobby said, his attention still on the kitchen. He practically rubbed his hands together with glee as he heard the distant sounds of sizzling and the glorious smell of searing meat wafted into the room. Harry had to have brought groceries; he didn't recall having any sort of meat in the 'fridge.

Sam turned his head a little, an eyebrow rising up his forehead. "Harry cooks?" he asked, sounding a bit more eager than he intended. He hadn't had a home cooked meal in... awhile. He couldn't even remember the last time he had, actually. He was sick of diner food and sandwiches. He inhaled deeply, his stomach grumbling at the fantastic aroma coming from the kitchen.

"Yeah, damn good at it too," Bobby said absently. He didn't know where the wizard learned and didn't really care. He just thanked all those responsible that his wizard could _and_ enjoyed doing it. He turned back to the youngest Winchester. "You gonna bitch if he doesn't make a salad?" he asked with a soft grunt, but it was clear he was teasing.

Sam huffed and crossed his arms. Why does everyone make fun of him for wanting to eat healthy?! "No," he said with a sulk. "I'm sure whatever he makes will be fine."

"Damn right," Bobby muttered.

He settled back in his chair again, content with the knowledge that Harry wasn't sitting out in the old Ford, sulking and feeling dejected any longer. He hoped Harry got dinner settled enough to come join him soon, though. He knew Sam would only be able to control his curiosity for so long and didn't look forward to Harry being ambushed in the kitchen. That young man had a bad startled reflex sometimes and he didn't look forward to Sam getting his balls hexed off. He looked up a few minutes later when Harry peeked around the corner, his green eyes darting around the room in that way he had.

Harry slunk into the room (a bit relieved to see it contained only Bobby and the tall one) his mug of tea clutched tightly between both hands. He looked between the available seats and shrugged, settling himself on the arm of Bobby's chair instead. He'd rather sit in the older man's lap, but there was only so much he was sure Sam could take so soon. He saw the younger Winchester looking at him with unveiled curiosity, questions practically shining in the hazel eyes. He sighed softly and sipped his tea. "Ask away," he said, waving a hand at Sam.

"Oh," Sam startled. He hadn't been expecting Harry to just... give him the go ahead. He darted a look at Bobby and tried not to squirm around. "Uh. Are you sure?"

Harry nodded and adjusted himself on the chair arm, hopefully finding a spot that wouldn't make his bum go numb too quickly. "Yeah, I'm sure. I know a bit about you and your brother already, so it's only fair, yeah?"

"I see," Sam said slowly, rubbing at his chin. He was trying to figure out the best question to start with. He didn't want to get too personal and immediately offend the guy. "OK. Uhm. So, Bobby says you're a Hunter?" Harry nodded, his eyes going sad for a moment. Sam felt a bit bad for that, not liking the normally bright green to dull even for that moment; now he kinda knew what Dean meant when he said he looked like a kicked puppy making a similar face. He flinched a little when Bobby glared at him, feeling like a scolded little kid. "Sorry," he said sincerely. "Uhm... How did you get into it?"

Harry rested a hand on Bobby's shoulder when he felt the man tense, ready to spring forward and start calling Sam an 'idjit' or tell him it wasn't his business. It wasn't, not really, but he knew about the brothers' past, so really, it did only seem fair. He really didn't expect to be parting from Bobby anytime soon and the Winchesters were like his family. No time like the present and all that shit.

"Well..."

Sam gaped, sitting completely still and utterly mesmerized as he sat and listened to Harry's story; he had the feeling it was condensed, but it was still a lot to take in. He had noticed the odd scar on the guy's head a time or two whenever his messy hair shifted enough. The messy black mop was rather long in front and nearly covered the green eyes on that side and he realized it was deliberately done. He didn't blame Harry; he'd hide the damn thing, too, if people always stared at it. By the time Harry was giving him a stilted explanation about his training as a _special agent_, Sam's brows pinched together.

"Wait, wait—" He held up a hand.

Harry paused, worrying his bottom lip. He had tried to keep any reference to magic out of his story and he was sure Sam hadn't noticed anything weird. Until now. He had the same look Hermione got when she was trying to connect dots and come to a conclusion. Bullocks. Of all the times to forget he was talking to 'the smart one'.

"Something's... off..." Sam trailed off, eyeing Harry closely. "What _aren't_ you saying?" he asked, looking at Harry. He didn't like being lied to. "I mean, if you don't want to say, just say that. But don't lie." He really wanted to trust Harry, especially since Bobby did, but he couldn't see that happening if the guy started lying 10 minutes into meeting each other.

Harry sighed and didn't object when Bobby's arm snaked around his waist. His eyes darted towards the stairs and he really hoped Dean wasn't listening in. He studied Sam, trying to sort out just what to tell the bloke. He felt like kicking himself in the arse for the vague way he described his brief time with the Auror department (and then the Unspeakables when he found out he hated being an Auror). He didn't know which part twanged Sam's lie-antennae, but he still should have left that part out.

He pursed his lips and a quick peek at Bobby had him sighing again and going for full disclosure when the older man merely stared back impassively. Great; Bobby was leaving it all up to him. He sighed again at rubbed at his forehead. If he was going to be staying around Bobby (and he was), the Winchesters would be there, too. He couldn't hide or lie about magic for the foreseeable future. Not successfully and not without feeling like a massive sneak.

"I'm a wizard," he said quietly.

"A wiz—What?!"

Harry nodded slowly, unconsciously sinking into Bobby's side when Sam's eyes widened and the tall man went very still. He found he didn't mind the blatant disbelief on the other man's face; he was just glad there wasn't a gun in his hand.


	2. Chapter 2

_(A/N: Rated **M** for mature content and language._

_Holy shitballs! Woah... thanks for the reviews, favorites and follows! I was all worried for nothing... I guess a Bobby/Harry pairing isn't so cracked. Heh. (I guess I don't need to add in the gentle reminder this is a Bobby Singer/Harry Potter Slash pairing fic [and it shall remain so]). __  
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_Warnings: MalexMale slash. Language.  
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_Enjoy. :))_

* * *

Bobby sat still, his eyes firmly on Sam as he held Harry around the waist. He knew the wizard had his hand on his wand but it wasn't drawn. Yet. Sam looked stunned and his brows were furrowed as he thought. Hard. Sam and hard thinkin' weren't always a bad thing, but he didn't know which way the boy's thoughts were gonna go and it was making him a little twitchy. He nearly regretted not telling Harry to wait (or at least gloss over a few things)... He watched Sam warily when he finally blinked rapidly and studied Harry again.

"OK," Sam finally said, slowly and with a deep exhale of breath. A actual wizard really wasn't that odd, not when he thought about how fucked up their daily life was. Angles. Demons. Shape-shifters. Werewolves. Ghosts... A wizard was par for the course, really.

"And Bobby—" He looked at the older man with almost pained curiosity. "You knew that?" He didn't mean to sound accusatory, but it came out that way anyway.

Bobby nodded. "Yeah, I knew it. I also know he ain't no demon witch. He's a _natural born_ wizard, Winchester," he said sharply, just in case Sam was getting any stupid ideas. "He uses a wand to tap into his—" His hand wandered around in a vague circle, "—whatsit called... his magical core." He felt more than saw Harry nodding at his explanation. "Do you think I'd be so calm about him if he were some demon lovin' witch, boy?"

"No," Sam said slowly. He was still having a hell of a time digesting everything, but Bobby being calm abo ut it helped a lot. He suddenly found himself glad Dean was upstairs. "OK, I get that you're... a wizard. But... how?" he asked Harry, leaning forward.

He had never heard of such a thing, not in any of the books he had read, and he was intrigued. Especially since Bobby seemed so accepting about the whole issue. Of course, knowing Bobby, he'd already had his own freak out and acceptance period. He idly wondered how much Holy water Harry had to drink the first few months of knowing Bobby...

Harry shrugged one shoulder. "I dunno. No one does," he said matter-of-factly.

Not even Hermione had been able to sort out _where_ the magic came from, or how—just that it was there for some and not there for others. If it only ran in families, she had thought it could be considered almost a genetic disorder of sorts. But randomly occurring Muggleborns (from families with no prior magical ancestors) threw a monkey wrench into any theory she ever came up with and she finally admitted defeat with an exasperated huff.

"Some people are just born with magic. We've a whole world secreted away. All over the world, there are hidden societies."

"Wow," Sam said softly. He shouldn't be surprised—but he still sort of was. He was learning of a whole new facet of the supernatural world he'd been completely ignorant of and it fascinated him. He had to respect the way magical people had been able to keep off of any Hunter's radar (or they were slaughtered without a second thought and not even classified as anything but a demon-witch).

He noticed a thin piece of wood just poking out of Harry's clenched fist and he nodded towards it. He tried not to stare... but it really looked like a magic wand; something right out of fantasy movie or one of those kids' books about wizards and goblins.

"Is that your wand?" He saw Harry's hand tighten, the knuckles going white, but the wizard nodded. "Can I, uhm, see it?" he asked hesitantly. Only after a flat look from Bobby did he realize how wrong it sounded. He flushed lightly ; he hadn't at all meaning it in as any sort of innuendo and he nearly rephrased his question, but he didn't. He did want to see it, even though he was sure he wouldn't be allowed to touch it.

Harry stared for a long moment, trying to gauge the younger Winchester for sincerity. He felt Bobby nudge him encouragingly and he slowly brought his wand out so Sam could see it. He didn't wave it or do anything but hold it. He kept it tucked close, too, in case the taller man got the insane idea to try to touch it. He knew the man could move fast, even if he looked ungainly. He relaxed a little when Sam only looked at it with awed curiosity—his head tilting this way and that as he studied it.

"So, this school you went to, I'm guessing it was some sort of magic school?" Sam asked after Harry put his wand away. He watched it practically vanish as it went up the wizard's sleeve and he wondered what else the man had up there... Hidden but within easy reach. That was a really freakin' handy trick.

Harry sighed. "Yes," he said, resisting the urge to rub his forehead. "Look, I know you've got a lot of questions, but I need to check on dinner," he said and got up, gently extracting himself from Bobby's hold.

He didn't meet either Hunter's eye as he left the room. He was glad Sam seemed to be taking everything calmly but he was still tense, waiting for a backlash or yelling and he needed to walk away before his magic lashed out without his consent. It was a bit embarrassing it still happened at his age, but since it had saved his life a time or two, he just worked on controlling it when he could.

"Happy?" Bobby asked dryly, his eyes stayed on Harry's retreating back even after the wizard slinked into the kitchen. He slowly turned to give Sam a flat look and he felt a little bad for pestering Sam when his brows scrunched up and the boy looked sorry as all hell. "Have some tact for your next questions, boy." He knew Sam wasn't done with his questions and he could only hope he took his advice to heart. Harry wouldn't be nasty or do any magic (intentionally) on the boy, but it didn't mean he wouldn't be hurt as old wounds were re-opened.

Sam nodded and looked towards the kitchen curiously. He was pretty sure he could think of a tactful way to ask the things he was most curious about. But even so, he hoped Harry wasn't prone to violence. Well, no more than any other Hunter. He stood up, fidgeting indecisively until Bobby snickered at him and he then hurried into the kitchen, sniffing as he passed through the doorway.

"Smells good," he said, shuffling into the room noisily. He didn't want to sneak up on the wizard. Even though he was pretty sure he didn't need to be noisy for Harry to sense him, he couldn't help it.

"Thanks," Harry said shortly, turning the roast. He closed the oven and sighed as he turned, leaning against the front of the appliance as he pulled off his oven mitts. He waved a hand at the tall man. "What else did you want to know?" he asked with a resigned set to his shoulders.

From what he knew of Sam, the youngest Winchester questioned everything. Not from cynicism but from a strong urge to learn any and everything he could. It was admirable but he was bemused that curiosity was for him. He wished he could claim he couldn't tell the man a damn thing, but being as how Bobby knew, he didn't have any excuses for keeping Sam ignorant. He considered a binding charm but dismissed it quickly; there was no telling what the seemingly easy-going Winchester would do if magic was used on him without consent.

Sam fidgeted, feeling a little awkward talking to Harry without Bobby around. "Uhm. If I ask something rude, are you going to like... turn me into a newt?" he asked, folding himself into the nearest seat. He didn't want to make Harry feel uncomfortable, and he figured sitting he was less... imposing.

"No," Harry said, his lips twitching. "I'd probably just end up turning you into a lamp or something. I'm pants at transfiguring living things."

Sam just nodded, unsure what the hell Harry just said, but relieved by the 'no' nonetheless. "Right. So. I'm curious about how you met Bobby," he said slowly, looking at Harry with open curiosity. "I mean, it's weird all over seeing you and him together," he said. He gave a small little smile, hoping it looked apologetic when he realized how that last part sounded.

He didn't know how to explain it was weird on so many levels; not just the fact that they were both men. He had been around enough not to be shocked by _that_. It was partly their age difference but mostly just... a Hunter and a wizard. Together. Talk about opposites...

"Yeah, I bet," Harry said dryly and rubbed a hand over his face. He pulled out the chair across from Sam and sat with a flump, leaning back in it. "I guess the first time I met Bobby, I wasn't even a year old. Of course, I don't remember that. He knew my parents, apparently. I didn't know until much later what all my parents were into."

He had thought his parents were Aurors, members of the Order as well, but he hadn't known it wasn't _exactly_ true. His mother worked with the Unspeakables department, something very few people knew (and he only found out, about three years ago, by accident). She would take the odd case that partnered with the Auror department, occasionally working only with his father or Sirius. She worked with Muggles frequently, usually dealing with Dark creatures or Dark artifacts that wound up in the Muggle world. And that's how, he could only guess, she met up with a few Hunters.

Sam nodded, hoping Harry would continue. "I guess your parents were... wizards, too?" he finally asked when Harry just sat there, his expression a bit faraway as he appeared to be lost in his own thoughts. He felt a little bad when Harry started, blinking away the fog.

"Yeah," Harry said with a nod, not feeling the urge to explain the difference between 'witches' and 'wizards' at the moment. Mostly because he knew the word 'witch' held negative connotations for the other Hunter and he wasn't in the mood to deal with dispelling deep-seated beliefs. "Both of my parents were." He sat quietly for a long moment, trying to sort out how to tell the story. "I said my parents were killed?" Sam nodded. "Well, it was a Dark Wizard that killed them. Fancied himself a Dark Lord, some sort of supreme ruler," he said with a disgusted snort.

It took years, but he had come to understand Voldemort's motives, just not his methods (he didn't think he'd ever agree with how the changes had been attempted). His disgust was for the Wizarding world that still let the same old prejudices and hatred, that lead to Voldemort's creation and rise to power, run unchecked through society and the Ministry. Even after two wars, they were still fighting amongst each other about bloody purity (instead of finding ways to introduce Muggleborns sooner) and the differences about Dark and Light (instead of seeing the need for a balance and that neither was inherently good or bad).

It was probably the main reason he didn't care if he ever returned to his old home. He could keep in contact with his friends without stepping foot near one single blindly worshiping sycophant. He hated the public adoration even more since they only saw him as some sort of symbol while ignoring anything he said. He lost count how many speeches he gave at the yearly anniversary of Voldemort's (final?) death—only to be ignored and asked what sort of robes he was wearing or if he was seeing anyone lately.

It was frustrating and he was sick and tired of beating his head against a brick wall.

"Long story short, I grew up unaware of my parents, magic, the Dark Lord... everything sorta fell into my lap when I was eleven. Fuck, that was quite a birthday," he remarked, ruffling a hand through his hair. "Still one of the best ones I've ever had, and that's quite fucked up—considering," he said with a dark chuckle. He was not going to share _the_ best one; that was something he was sure Sam (and Bobby) wouldn't want him sharing. He did indulge in letting flashes of memory play for a few moments, though.

Sam just got comfortable, staying quiet so Harry would continue. He was itching to know when Bobby came into the picture and he was insanely curious how long the older Hunter knew about 'natural magic'. Why hadn't Bobby ever said anything about it before? Why did he let him and Dean go on thinking all witches were demonic and evil? He felt a twinge of guilt, his memory flashing on the numerous witches he and Dean ganked over the years (only slightly soothed by remembering those witches had killed people and that was the reason they came to their attention). How many were actual demon deal witches?

He watched as Harry smiled a little, feeling absurdly like he was intruding on a private moment until the smile flickered away just as quickly as it came.

"Anyway," Harry continued, waving a hand. "I was about twenty when I first ran into Bobby. We were hunting the same werewolf, apparently," he said, a hint of a smile back on his lips.

He remembered literally bumping into the American and being smitten right away. Even Bobby's gruff attitude didn't really keep him from wanting to run his fingers through the man's beard or pull off his cap to see his eyes better. And the man's voice still sent tingles up his spine. He picked at the table, mostly just so he didn't have to look at Sam, and cleared his throat softly.

"I don't remember exactly where we were, but I do remember thinking it odd to run into an American... Maybe it was Wales?" he mused aloud with a shrug.

Sam tried not to gape, or laugh; the image of Bobby in another country was actually pretty amusing. Especially if he was his usual gruff self, grumping at the everything and trying to sort out the locals. He made a 'go on' gesture.

_"What the hell are you doin', kid?!" Bobby muttered to himself as he took in the odd sight before him. He felt a sudden sinking sensation in his gut as he watched._

_ A black haired kid loped across the field and tackled a full grown werewolf. There was a surprised growl, a pained grunt a moment later, and a jumble of limbs and blurred body parts as the pair went down. It didn't take long for either of them to gain their feet again—springing up like a pair of deadly jack-in-the-boxes—and circle each other, both crouched slightly in a defensive stance. _

_"Shit! Shit shit shit!" Bobby chanted, puffing each word as he tried to run faster. He tried to run, check his gun and keep an eye on the snarling duo at the same time and nearly tripped. He was getting too old for this shit!_

_Harry ignored the shouting and focused on Greyback; he couldn't afford to lose focus for even a moment. He held his silver dagger in one hand and grinned, enjoying the flash of fear in amber eyes when the moonlight glinted off of the wickedly sharp blade. "C'mon. I'm sure you've been waiting for a chance at me," he taunted the snarling werewolf. He leaped to the side when Greyback charged with a roar, feeling claws whisper against the fabric of his jacket on his upper arm. _

_He didn't even pause to blink over the close-call, he just twirled and jumped, landing on the werewolf's back; digging his boney knees into the beast's armpits for balance. He brought his dagger down in a smooth arc, imbedding it right in Greyback's thick neck. He tried to ignore the hot splash of blood on his hand and dragged the sharp dagger towards him, regrettably failing in decapitating the werewolf before he was thrown off. He nimbly jumped off the howling werewolf, rolling with the momentum and springing up on his feet moments later. _

_He grinned again and circled, trying not to enjoy the sight of the awkward half-transformed man-beast now standing in front of him, panting with pain and exertion. Amber eyes were wide and rolled with pain and fear. He watched as Greyback stumbled and howled, a hand coming up to the large wound in his neck and coming away dripping with dark blood. _

_It was rather satisfying to see the bastard bleeding so bad but he knew it wasn't a fatal wound, even with the silver dagger, if he gave Greyback enough time to heal. The bastard had found a way to resist the immediate death from silver-poisoning, even as the wound burned from the silver. He pulled his lip back from his teeth in a snarl, mocking the werewolf._

_"C'mon," Harry said again, waggling his fingers. _

_He grinned darkly when Greyback charged again, a snarling growl coming from his muzzle. He was through toying with the werewolf, unsure how much longer he could afford to. He quickly batted the dangerously clawed hand away from his neck and sunk the dagger deep into a still-furry, muscled chest, right in the middle of his heart. He winced at the ear-splitting shriek of pain and rage but didn't let go, moving with the flailing werewolf as he thrashed and howled. _

_He dodged claws easily, wondering if Greyback was even trying that hard to claw his face off. He didn't know why Greyback wasn't trying to throw him off, but he couldn't bring himself to care—all he cared about was being able to stay close enough to viciously twist the dagger. He was glad for the anti-slip charm he had on the hilt when his hand was drenched in dark, sticky blood in a hot torrent. _

_He felt the mixture of revulsion and triumph that he usually did when killing a dark creature ____(he didn't inherently believe all dark creatures needed to be 'put down')_. He hated that he had to do so at times but he couldn't sit back and allow more people to die, either. He felt a bit justified in his less-than-humane method since it was Greyback (even if he didn't want to fully admit it). Killing the bastard didn't bring back any of his victims, but it did assuage his inner sense of turmoil just that little bit.

_Harry grimaced as more blood poured out, covering his hand and arm to the elbow and splashing down the entire front of his body. Ugh. His shoes were totally going in the trash—there wasn't a strong enough __Scurgify known to wizarding kind to make them worth keeping. He watched as Greyback's face went lax and the werewolf slumped heavily to the side. He cast a wandless charm and nodded when a flat line glowed softly by the werewolf's chest, confirming Greyback was dead._

_A surreal sense of reality settled over him as he stared at the werewolf's corpse, watching the wolf bits slowly melt and fade into human. __He let out a shaky breath; it had been a years-long hunt for the bastard and he felt relief course through him. He heard the noise behind him but kept his focus on the corpse in front of him awhile longer, watching the change finish.  
_

_Bobby skidded to a stop, watching with stunned fascination as the kid pulled his dagger from the dead werewolf and wiped it off on the rapidly melting fur, a grimace on his face. He closed the gap between them, stumbling into the kid a little when he slipped on some blood. "Shit," he puffed out, clutching at his chest, trying to regulate his breathing and his thudding heart._

_ "You some kinda special idjit, boy?" he asked loudly, looking the kid over. He had no idea how the kid managed to keep himself alive, but he didn't care at the moment._

_Right now he was scared shitless he nearly had to witness the kid's death. Naturally, that fear came across as anger. He _was_ a little pissed, too, though. He should be relieved that a werewolf was dead; it really didn't matter who ganked it. As the kid turned, a sheepish look on his face, Bobby paused. Why did the kid look familiar? He narrowed his eyes and looked closely at the boy, waiting for his brain to get back into gear._

_"Uhm. Sorry?" Harry said/asked, unsure how to respond. He didn't know the man and he was surprised the stranger hadn't buggered off during his fight with Greyback. Most people did, usually screaming for the Auror department. "Uh..." he trailed off awkwardly, fidgeting slightly as the older man stared at him intently, his eyebrows drawn together tightly and his lips pursed. He slowly slid his dagger into the sheath he had tucked in his lower back, his now-empty hands jerking up defensively when the older man shifted closer with surprising speed._

_Bobby stepped closer, studying the boy intently. He _did_ look familiar but he still couldn't place him and he couldn't even imagine running into someone he knew out __here. He grabbed the kid by the front of his bloody shirt, ignoring the warm, sticky-slick feeling under his fist. "What's your name?" he demanded._

_ He wasn't in the mood for pleasantries. He blinked when the kid looked up at him through his lashes, a shy expression on his face. What the hell was that all about? People don't take down werewolves—with only a damn silver dagger and their wits (even if there weren't many to begin with)—and then get _shy_, for fuck's sake. His fingers twitched but he didn't let go of the kid's shirt._

_"Harry, sir."_

_Bobby blinked again at the 'sir'. "Harry what?" He tried to make sure he was a bit less rude about it that time. A boy that said 'sir' had manners, even if he didn't have a lick of common sense or self-preservation._

_"Harry Potter, sir."_

_Bobby slowly let his fist uncurl, a bit confused at the resigned tone until the last name finally clicked in his memory. "Lily and James' boy?" he asked, narrowing his eyes. _

_He could see the resemblance, alright. The kid was pert near the spittin' image of James, 'cept he had his momma's eyes. He wanted to kick himself when a sad look came over the kid's face, even if it was quickly hidden when the kid shifted so his hair flopped in front of his eyes. He felt like a grade-A asshole for bringing up the kid's parents when he got the impression they had passed on. It wasn't exactly unheard of for Hunters to be killed, or dying from related means. Especially ones as involved as the Potters were—had been._

_"Yes," Harry said quietly, swallowing thickly. He looked up at the older man, unable to hide his curiosity. He cleared his throat, working the sudden lump down as best he could. He always got that ball of emotion lodged right in the middle of his throat when he met someone that seemed to have known his parents. Personally. It didn't happen often but it still managed to take him by surprise. "Did you know them?" he asked, stepping closer unconsciously. Sure, the man had a Muggle gun but he hadn't pointed it him just yet._

_Bobby's shoulders sagged at the past tense, his suspicions confirmed, and he nodded once. "I'm real sorry to hear about your folks, son," he said quietly. He saw Harry make a small shrugging, nod sorta gesture, muttering a soft 'thanks' and frowned. He realized the kid—_Harry_—had probably heard that a lot and tried not to let the lack of a reaction bother him. "I knew 'em, yeah," he finally said in answer to Harry's question. He eyed the kid again and clucked his tongue. "Last I saw you, you was just a droolin' rugrat," he said, a hint of a smile on his face. _

_He realized Harry wasn't a 'kid' at all; he was a grown ass man that should be 21 or so, if his math was right. He eyed the slighter man but kept any embarrassing questions to himself. He couldn't imagine why the kid... er, young man was so small. James had been rather tall and broad, his momma was on the delicate side but he didn't think that was it. If he hadn't seen the young man move so effectively against the werewolf, he never would have believed he could stand against a stiff wind and keep his feet._

_"Oh," Harry said softly. He nearly apologized for not remembering the man before his brain kicked in. He didn't remember _any_thing from that time in his life, he certainly wasn't going to remember a complete stranger._

_Bobby nearly smacked himself in the forehead. "Sorry, boy. Dunno where my manners are," he said apologetically and stuck his hand out. "Name's Bobby Singer."_

_"Hi, Bobby Singer," Harry said quietly, but politely and with respect as he shook the man's hand. "Uhm. So... I guess you were after Greyback, too," he asked after a rather too long, awkward silence. He didn't bother glancing at the corpse; he had no real wish to see it again. He nodded at the gun in Bobby's hand. "Silver, I hope."_

_Bobby nodded, holding in the urge to point out he wasn't no idjit. Who wouldn't arm themselves with silver when dealing with a werewolf? _

_He rubbed a hand over his face. "I suppose you don't know any of your parents old... friends?" he asked. _

_That was the main reason he had flown across a damn ocean; he had hoped to get some answers from a group he'd heard about called The Order of Ostrich or something or other. He needed information. But insofar, he had no luck getting in contact with any of his old contacts—either of the Potters or Black—but he had hoped it was only because they weren't familiar with his methods of communication. He didn't know how they sent messages in their world and had to resort to flyin' his ass over here._

_"No," Harry said softly, looking down at his feet. The only people he did know that were in the Order with his parents were dead or ignoring him now that the war was over and done with._

Sam sat as Harry went through a brief explanation; he had a feeling there was more to be said but he wanted to respected the guy's right to a little privacy. "So, you basically... just... _ran into_ Bobby one day?" Harry nodded, shrugging one shoulder. "A while ago," he said, making Harry shrug/nod again. He still found it weird for Bobby to have known this guy for that long and not mention him. "Did you see him often?"

"No, not really," Harry said a bit sadly. "After that first time, it was another few years 'til I ran into Bobby again. I was in the States that time," he said, shuddering lightly in memory. He had finally gotten used to the feel of the wild magic in America, but at that point he hadn't. It gave him horrible headaches and left a heavy metallic taste in the back of his throat for weeks. He was pretty sure it still did taste like a mouthful of pennies, but he'd just gotten used to it by now.

Sam nodded, unsure if he wanted to ask what had brought Harry across an ocean. It must have been pretty important (and rather bad) by the tight expression that flitted across the wizard's face and the shudder that worked through his body when he mentioned it. He immediately rejected that line of questioning and his eyes darted towards the other room. Where Bobby was. "So." He paused, unsure if he was being invasive again.

"Well, for me, pretty much right away," Harry said, getting an idea what the younger Winchester wanted to ask. When he saw Sam nod encouragingly, he realized he had assumed correctly. It was nice Sam hadn't just blurted it out, but he didn't mind. He smirked when Sam shifted uncomfortably. It was a little adorable to see Sam blush but he didn't want to come off as a complete git so he restrained the urge to tease the bloke.

"It took Bobby ages to come around," he said with a sigh that was part exasperation and part fondness. He chuckled, remembering having to be rather... persuasive. A little forceful and blunt (almost obscenely so) on a few occasions for the older Hunter to cotton on. Bobby wasn't stupid but he had been so deep in denial it had been difficult to get the older man to see him as anything other than a fellow Hunter (or worse, a _kid_ that he was offering guidance or mentoring like some adoptive parent).

Sam sat in silence, thinking. He had quite a bit to think about and he didn't know where to start. Bobby and Harry being involved, at the moment, was probably the last of his concerns. But it did sorta make him feel better to know Harry was the chaser, for some reason. That brought some rather humorous images to mind, but he pushed them away.

He sat forward, resting his elbows on the table and folding his hands together. "So, what do you do?"

"A little bit of everything," Harry said with a careless shrug. Sam gave him a look that asked for more information and he smirked. He didn't have a proper job; he didn't need one and he'd probably go mental doing anything else (at least for now). "I kill things that go bump in the night. I also am quite adept at demon possession and... removal."

Sam sat forward, leaning forward eagerly. "Really? Do you mean like... exorcisms or are you able to _kill_ demons?" He didn't think it was possible... without the Colt, anyway.

"Yes," Harry said slowly. "I prefer to excise them, but when it appears it'll harm the host or they won't survive without being possessed, I've found a way to kill the demon. It generally leaves a bit of a mess, though," he said, wrinkling his nose.

The process he used to kill a demon often left a slightly charred body behind—hence why he hated using it on living victims of possession. Unless the demon tried to leave their host first; then it was rather easy and just a matter of trapping the rising black cloud and eradicating it. He had to move fast, having to cast the required three spells almost simultaneously. It had taken some trial and error, but he had enough practice now that he was successful more often than not.

"I take it you lot haven't sorted out how to do that yet?" he asked when Sam just stared at him incredulously.

Sam slowly shook his head, unknowingly looking at the wizard with a sort of awe. "Unless we use the Colt, no."

"Ah, the Colt," Harry mused aloud with a nod. He knew about the fabled Muggle gun. He had helped Bobby track it down a time or two. "I only wish I had been able to put more runes on it the last time I had it," he said apologetically. He had intended to, only after he'd thoroughly researched the appropriate ones (roping in an enthusiastic Hermione for added insurance), but it was needed before he'd been able to finish.

Sam quirked an eyebrow. He knew what runes were, of course, but he didn't know how they would have made a difference. And it was very interesting to find out Harry had actually held the Colt at some point. If nothing else had spoken for Bobby's trust in the young wizard, that did. "Why's that?"

"Well," Harry said slowly, leaning back in his chair and rubbing a hand over his face. "For one, it would have made the gun unable to be used by certain people... er, beings. I didn't have the time to customize it for anyone specific before it was needed."

He slowly rubbed his chin, lost in thought. He actually could probably get _any_ Muggle gun and charm it to work similarly to the Colt. Between the right metals and runes, it could work. It wouldn't be all that different than how Samuel Colt had made the original one, really—just with a bit more _oomph_. He blinked, coming out of his thoughts to see Sam giving him that weirdly intense, studying look again. He felt a bit like Hermione's well read (and nearly entirely memorized) _Hogwarts: A History_. "Hm?"

Sam folded his hands on the table and took a deep breath. "I'm thinking," he murmured at Harry's questioning sound. He rubbed at his forehead, smoothing out the wrinkles a little. Harry was a wizard. Bobby knew this but hadn't said. Harry could kill demons and most likely make a gun that only he (or Dean) could use. He felt punchy and like everything just got melty and surreal. He slowly grinned—having a wizard on their side could really be awesome.

Now just to make sure Dean didn't shoot him...

[]|[]|[]

Bobby kept his ears pricked for noise from the kitchen, but so far things were quiet. Not surprising; Sam knew how to engage his brain before acting. He only hoped the boy didn't overwhelm Harry with his enthusiasm. He went back to his book, keeping half of his attention on the kitchen. Just in case. It was about a half hour later when Dean came jogging lazily down the steps.

"What?" he grunted, feeling Dean's stare on him. He didn't look away from his book but he could tell Dean was smirkin' like an ass.

"Nothin'," Dean said with a smirk, raising his hands. He flopped onto the sofa, kicking out his legs and making himself comfortable. He didn't bother wondering where Sam or the midget were; Sam was probably somewhere with his nose in a book and he didn't really care about the other dude as long as he wasn't attached to Bobby's face. "So," he said airily, smirking.

Bobby ignored him. He wasn't in the mood to be hearing Dean's shit. "Say one more word and we can discuss how many times I've seen you looking at Cas like he's a slice of cherry pie," he slowly looked up from his book and turned his head to eye Dean. "_A la mode._" He snorted at the shocked, squeaky noise that came out of Dean and snapped his book closed. He popped his cap off and rubbed at his head. "Or maybe we can talk about how _dreamy_ his butt is," he added in a dry tone.

He snickered when Dean actually stared off for a moment. He didn't think Cas ever had that damn coat off long enough to actually get a good look at his butt. But apparently Dean either had seen it or just wanted to pretend for a moment about the image of fine Angel ass. He felt it better to taunt the boy so he didn't worry himself stupid at the Angel's habit of popping in and out (or blowing up) randomly now that he had brought the angel's name up.

"Nuh uh!" Dean muttered, shaking his head sharply to dispel lingering mental images. He was more than a little annoyed he couldn't think of a better way to deny Bobby's teasing words. A nice 'no way' or something would have been better.

He certainly wasn't going to mention that Cas was more like an _apple_ pie; all spicy and warm and sweet. He cleared his throat and just shrugged when he realized Bobby was half-serious; he wasn't a fan of chick-flick moments, especially if it had anything at all to do with discussing other men's (er... Angel's) asses. He wasn't copping to anything but he saw the wisdom in shutting up.

"So, where is the little dude?" he asked, looking around the room for Bobby's little boy-toy.

Bobby snorted, amused despite himself. Harry wasn't particularly sensitive about his size but he'd probably get annoyed real quick if Dean kept up his habit of diminutive nicknames. He pondered warning Dean but shrugged to himself; Dean would learn or he wouldn't. He just hoped Harry didn't have to hex his dumb ass too many times. That tended to scramble brains (or cook internal organs) if Harry did it often or was concentrating hard enough.

"In the kitchen. With Sam," he said, almost sounding bored, and went back to his book.

"Doin' what?" Dean asked, sitting up and looking towards the kitchen with a slight frown. He knew Sammy could take care of himself, especially against a little shrimp like Harry, but it still set off his protective instincts. He didn't like his brother alone with any stranger, regardless of them appearing 'safe'. He shifted in his seat, stretching his legs out in an effort to hide the move and get a bit more comfortable.

Bobby grunted and glared at Dean over his book. "Talkin', I 'magine."

"'Bout what?"

Bobby sighed and closed his book again. "How am I gonna answer that if I'm in here with you?" he asked sharply, raising an eyebrow a little at Dean's idiocy.

"Oh. Right. Well, I figured you'd have some idea," Dean said defensively. He got up with a grunt, intent on seeing what Sasquatch and Shorty were up to. He snorted softly, amused with himself.

Bobby followed, hoping Dean didn't just start shooting his mouth off or walk in on anything too shocking. It wouldn't surprise him one bit to see Harry waving his wand around for Sam; the wizard would feel comfortable enough with Sam to show him some magic by now if he'd accepted everything with his usual aplomb. He paused at the threshold and felt his stomach drop when he saw the scene in the kitchen.

Shit.

Harry had indeed taken his wand out and Sam was currently suspended mid-air, upside down. It was _almost_ humorous to see the look of amusement quickly morph into one of stunned surprise, his large eyebrows coming together as his forehead wrinkled deeply, as he caught sight of Dean and Bobby stepping into the kitchen.

The stunned surprised quickly changed into an expression of horror when Dean moved, his instincts and body reacting with practiced speed to the sight before him: Sammy appearing to be threatened—by Harry.

Dean had his gun in his hand before he even realized he'd gone for it. In a blink, it was jammed, in what could only be a painfully harsh jab, just under Harry's jaw. (Bobby couldn't control the crazy thought of 'He prefers a nibbling, wet kiss there, ya idjit' from going through his mind, but thankfully didn't say it aloud.) They all seemed too damn stunned to speak.

The wizard was standing completely still and looking panicked enough to scare Bobby.

Harry swallowed thickly, his eyes darting to Bobby's and he only hoped that wasn't the last thing he saw before some testosterone riddled Muggle with inhumanly quick reflexes blew his head off in the most stunningly stupid ambush he had ever been caught in. He nearly groaned; it was rather embarrassing, truth be told. If he didn't actually fear for his life, he'd probably snicker at the absolute absurdity.

The click of the gun being cocked was deafening in the quiet and made everyone still and even Sam's face went pale, somehow, even as he hanged upside down.

"Balls."


	3. Chapter 3

_(A/N: Rated **M** for mature content and language._

_Yay! Thank you all for the continued interest.  
_

_Warnings: MalexMale slash. Lil' bit of Smut. Language. _

_Enjoy!)_

* * *

"What are you doing?" Sam asked, raising an eyebrow at his brother.

Truthfully, he was still a little pissed at Dean and nearly walked by the jerk without speaking to him. But he was too curious to ignore the wanna-be gunslinger when he caught him crouched in front of Bobby's door. It was pretty obvious what Dean was doing—there really is only one reason to have your ear pressed against a door—but he was interested in the 'why' of it.

Dean jumped and quickly straightened up from where he was bent over a little, his ear pressed against Bobby's door. "Nothin'," he said with forced calm. He was glad he wasn't blushing at being caught out like some peeping tom. He bounced on the balls of his feet and nearly started whistling like a freakin' cartoon character.

"Well," Sam said, drawing the word out. "It _looks_ like you were being a pervert," he pointed out with a snicker. He raised an eyebrow when Dean made to deny it. His eyes flicked pointedly to Bobby's door, knowing Bobby and Harry were behind it. Yeah, he was curious what was going on too, but not enough to sneak around eavesdropping. Especially since it was someone's (_Bobby's_) bedroom. Just— No. Who knew how Bobby took to settling Harry down? He really didn't want to think about it.

Dean scoffed and flipped Sam off, pushing past him to head into the room they shared. He wasn't _eavesdropping_ so much as making sure that little shit wasn't trying to talk Bobby into anything stupid. Like making him choose between the three of them. He wanted to think Bobby would tell him to go pound sand up his ass until it came out of his ears, but he wasn't _that_ confident—not if he was being honest with himself. He could understand it, in an abstract sorta way, but not when it came to Bobby.

He felt like a petulant kid to think it, but Bobby was theirs first. He didn't know how to twist 'bros before hoes' to work in this instance, but it totally applied.

But he had seen the look on Bobby's face when he walked into the kitchen earlier. That was not the expression of a man that would easily walk away. It confused him when he still couldn't figure out just who that scared expression was for; him or Harry—though, logic said Harry because he was the one with a gun shoved against his jugular. He ran a hand over his face, grimacing at the overly long stubble rasping against his palm and flopped onto his bed.

Yeah, he was sorry for pulling a gun on the little guy, _and_ the scuffle that ensued, but what else was he supposed to do? The little witch dude had Sammy dangling in the air like a worm on a hook! He still doesn't remember hearing Sam chuckle or seeing him smile... not that he didn't believe his little bro when Sam had told him it had happened—but that gushy shit wasn't what he focused on.

They ganked witches and all that kinda shit, and that was _that_. He huffed, annoyed he felt that little niggle of guilt return in the pit of his stomach. He didn't want to feel guilty, but it was there, eating at his guts. He _was_ sorry he pulled a gun on Bobby's... er... Harry, but he somehow felt worse when the little guy wasn't pissed off; he actually gave an understanding shrug and said something like 'I'd do the same'. Of course, that was after they had stopped tussling on the ground and he found out Harry was freakin' deadly.

Sam snickered again as he watched his bother slink down the hall before his gaze landed on the door Dean had been listening against. He shuffled forward quietly, and after some internal debate, slowly pressed his ear up to the wood. He couldn't make out words, just low-pitched murmuring and an occasional scuff of feet against the short carpet pile, like someone was talking and pacing. His brows pinched in concern and he really hoped Harry wasn't talking about leaving. It would probably break that little piece of heart Bobby had left...

"I didn't know what else to say," Harry said miserably. He looked at Bobby pleadingly. After they stopped fighting and got up off of the floor, he had told Dean what he'd told Sam. As he expected—it didn't go down as well. Thankfully, Bobby and Sam were both there to make sure Dean's gun stayed put or another fight didn't break out (well, not so much a fight; more like Dean attacking Harry and the wizard having to defend himself). "I didn't think Dean would react like _that_."

Bobby snorted and pulled Harry closer by his wrist, halting his pacing. He pulled gently but insistently until the wizard was settled on the bed next to him. "You shoulda'," he scoffed, wrapping an arm around Harry's narrow shoulders and rubbing his upper arm.

He tried to be annoyed Harry still had the tendency to think the best of people (or overestimate their intelligence and good senses) but he couldn't. Harry could read people and it rarely steered him wrong, when he was able to think clearly and be objective. Even with the initial heart thudding start, everything had ended smoothly enough. But he was still a little jittery from the whole shitstorm (and the entirely _too-close_ of a call) earlier and the soothing touch was for himself as much as it was for Harry.

"Yeah, I guesso," Harry muttered, leaning into Bobby's side and soaking in the comforting embrace.

He still felt embarrassed, and a little pissed off, the older Winchester felt the need to 'protect' Bobby and Sam from him and tried to attack him. He sighed, rubbing a hand over his face, his thumb tracing over the spot where the gun had been pressing. (He reckoned the still-cool sensation of gun metal on his skin was merely his over-active, overly-dramatic imagination.) He had expected a knee-jerk reaction, just not _that_ one; he didn't think Dean walked around, at all times, with a gun up his arse.

His sigh trailed off into a soft moan when Bobby's hand slid up his shoulder and went to work kneading and massaging at his neck. His head flopped forward bonelessly and he hummed as Bobby's fingers and hands worked at him.

Bobby shifted so he could rub on Harry easier. He let his hand drift down Harry's back (grazing the tempting swell of his ass for only a second) before returning to the comforting, relaxing touches. "Don't be an ass. I already told those boys not to press their luck with you. Dean, obviously, didn't believe me. Or trust me," he ended in a mutter.

"They do," Harry said quietly, his eyes closed as he enjoyed Bobby's ministrations. He had no idea where Bobby learned to massage like that but it felt fantastic. "I'm just glad I didn't seriously hurt him."

He was sure, warning or no, Bobby would have been upset if something really bad had happened. To any of them, not just the Winchesters. Yelling and being called names he could handle, but he didn't think he could handle it if Bobby chucked him out or decided it wasn't worth the tension between them all. He'd go, of course, if it meant Bobby wouldn't lose the brothers but he'd be absolutely miserable.

Bobby sighed and gave into his urge, especially when saw that pinched, sad expression settle on Harry's face. He didn't even care about being all sappy and shit, he just focused on his man. He pulled Harry into his lap, smirking a little when the wizard made a muffled sound of surprise at the sudden movement. "I already said I warned 'em. It's only his own damn fault he didn't listen."

"I know," Harry said sullenly.

He was still convinced they'd be having a whole different conversation if he had seriously hurt Dean (or Sam—either from dropping him in the surprise arrival of Dean or if he had stepped in to 'save' his brother when they were reduced to physical blows). As it was, he had only wrenched the other man's arm (just enough to be painful but before the threat of dislocation) and nicked a deep enough cut to his neck to bleed sluggishly for a few seconds. He healed the Hunter almost immediately, but only after his point was made: he could take care of himself.

Bobby grinned. "C'mon, stop moping. I liked watching you put Winchester on his ass."

"Really?" Harry replied dryly. It was a pretty fine arse, but he didn't think Bobby would've enjoyed him harming it. Or that he'd checked it out. Once. From a purely academic standpoint, mind.

Bobby nodded. "Oh yeah. You know that," he said, looking at Harry pointedly. A cute pink flush crawled up Harry's neck and cheeks and he smirked. It wasn't an odd occurrence for him to be more than a little turned on when watching Harry 'work' (showing off his strenghth and agility). He didn't know why it affected him like it did and he didn't care, even if it made him some sort of pervert. As long as Harry didn't get hurt, he turned into a randy old bastard.

"And the kid's gotta learn the hard way—seems to be how all you idjits function. You taught him. Now we can move on," he said and leaned down to kiss Harry's neck. He really hoped that's how it went but he was caring less and less the more he touched heated skin with his lips and fingertips.

"Yeah, OK," Harry agreed absently. His focus was now on the tickly/rough feeling of Bobby's beard rubbing against his jaw and neck and calloused fingertips grazing various sensitive areas making him shiver lightly. He burrowed his fingers in Bobby's hair, knocking his cap askew as he moved his hand up. He grinned when the cap tumbled off of the older man's head, landing somewhere amongst the blankets. It was always a sign of Bobby's interest when that hat came off and he didn't grumble, grouse or whinge. He tightened his fingers, shifting closer when Bobby gave a nearly inaudible moan.

Bobby ignored his cap falling off and turned to pin Harry down but slipped on the bedspread, sending the wizard sprawling and thumping his head lightly on the headboard. He immediately hovered over the younger man and when he didn't even looked dazed, he bent down and continued in his kissing on him.

Now, he wasn't one to huff and puff and scream but Harry didn't exactly keep quiet and he was fine with that since he didn't scream enough to make anyone think he was being gutted or filming their own amateur skin flick. God no; Harry found the perfect balance between uninhibited moaning and grunting without overdoing it and hollerin' like some porno. He stroked a hand down Harry's chest and enjoyed the low, rather loud, moan Harry made as he arched up into his palm.

Sam backed away from the door when the murmuring turned into something that sounded like moaning and a bed creaking as two bodies shifted on it. He couldn't help but smile, glad to know they weren't fighting or pissed off, even if he felt embarrassed and like a total pervert for eavesdropping. He jumped when there was a muffled thump followed by a loud, breathy moan and then a deep chuckle before everything went very quiet. What the...?

Oh. _Oh! _Oh god...

Sam stared wide-eyed at the closed door, his face flaming, as the dots connected in his head. He hurriedly backed up two steps before freezing again with indecision. He did not want to stand there listening (not that he could hear anything) but he didn't want to make a noise and have Bobby or Harry popping out to investigate and catch him, either_. _

"Shit," Harry groaned, his wand tumbling from his hand. He barely had the concentration to focus on a privacy ward, but he was glad he did it just in time for Bobby's teeth to gently clamp around a nipple, the older man's lips following just before he sucked_. Hard._ He didn't even remember Bobby taking his shirt off... "Fuck," he whispered, pressing against the older man's mouth and hands. His hands drifted down Bobby's back and settled on his arse—a surprisingly _firm_, very nice arse for an old bookworm.

Sam's indecision broke when the floor creaked and no one came barging out and pointing accusingly at him, hollering 'Pervert!'. He hurried down the hallway, nearly skidding into his room and closed the door as quickly, and as quietly, as he could. He rushed over and settled onto his bed, trying to calm himself and act cool. He opened the book on magical theory Harry gave him earlier and tried to focus only on the words and the cool-as-hell moving pictures.

He could feel Dean staring at him, he knew the jerk was smirking with a stupid knowing look on his face, and he wanted to curse. "Shut up," he muttered, just loud enough for Dean to hear him, and aimed a raised middle finger in Dean's direction.

"I didn't say anything," Dean said, raising his hands in supplication. "But, for the record—" His smirk deepened, and he pointed a finger at his brother, "You're blushing like some bored housewife at a 50 Shades of Grey reading."

Sam bent his head down even more, trying to disappear into his book. Or at least block the sight of a smugly grinning Dean from his peripheral. "Shut _up_," he muttered again. He did not want to be reminded of the noises he heard. Mostly because it brought images. Vivid mental images. He felt like a prude, but it was one thing to know, in an abstract sorta way, people got it on and he liked his ignorant little bubble to be without graphically real spoilers.

"Aw, I missed something juicy, didn't I?" Dean asked, mocking a whine and exaggerating a pout.

He did not want to think that Bewitched back there was manipulating Bobby with... well, his dick. But he had to give the guy props if he was. It was a never-fail method of manipulation against anyone with the aforementioned appendage; a method he was (unfortunately) familiar with as he'd been lead around by his dick more than once.

"Is that... Is that a good sign, you think?" he asked, giving Sam a side-long look, after they both were quiet for a few minutes. He didn't think Sammy would get exactly what he meant, but by the look on his brother's face, he probably did. Good; he didn't want to have to explain his whole Harry-using-sex-to-steal-Bobby-away thoughts. It was embarrassing enough to even _think_ them, let alone utter them aloud to his egg-head brother. Sam would, no doubt, think it stupid to worry about such a thing, but hey—he never claimed to be a rational man.

Sam slowly closed his book, a thoughtful look on his face. "No. But, I mean, it's totally understandable, man. You... well, you guys looked like you were going to kill each other," he said quietly, remembering the fight from earlier.

He had been genuinely scared when he saw Dean shove his gun against Harry's neck. It seemed to only get worse when Harry moved like a blur and the two of them reversed positions in the time it took to blink. Then they were on the ground in a tangle of violently moving body parts. They,d gone still when Harry held a wicked looking dagger—that he pulled from who knows where—against Dean's neck. Everyone had frozen with fear and indecision. He didn't think Harry would've seriously hurt his brother but he didn't want to get in the middle and make it worse. He would be the first to admit his brother acted rashly, but he still hated seeing Dean suffer for it.

He still hadn't been scared _of_ Harry, mostly still _for_ him until he noticed _Dean_ looked scared—even though he was the bigger one... with a loaded gun. He almost didn't want to admit his respect and curiosity went up for the wizard, but only after it was obvious he wasn't going to kill his brother.

And it was pretty clear Harry _could_ have put a wicked hurting on Dean—and Sam was pretty sure that was even without Harry using his magic. Even Dean realized it and thankfully it only took that little nick on his neck to prove it. Naturally, Dean was sullen afterwards, nursing his pride and he mentally thanked Bobby when he dragged Harry into his room and called it an early night. Even if they were doing... things.

Sam looked back at Dean, and he was pretty sure his brother had concerns (other than the couple working off some tension) but he really didn't know what they were. His brother was looking... introspective and he was wondering what was going through his head.

"We weren't," Dean said, waving off Sam's concern. He hadn't been so sure for about 3 seconds, but Sammy didn't need to know that. "But, you uh—you had my back, though, right?"

Sam nodded immediately. "Yeah, of course. It just happened so fast, I didn't even get the chance to do anything," he said honestly. He chewed the inside of his cheek for a few moments, giving Dean a searching look. "You're not going to keep being a dick to him, are you?"

"Maybe."

Sam huffed and gave Dean his most persuasive puppy-eyes—which Dean promptly looked away from. "Don't. It'll only piss off Bobby. And, you never know—keep it up and Harry'll be forced into turning you into a lamp or something."

"Sure," Dean snorted and then started to laugh. He quickly sobered when Sam only raised an eyebrow, his face the picture of seriousness and sincerity. Oh. Right. Wizard. The guy really _could_ do shit like that. He figured that was the exact reason they should be kicking his ass into the bunker or something, not letting him snuggle up with Bobby. But whatever.

"Look, I just need to figure this out, alright? I'm not exactly as forward thinking as you, Sammy. I need some time to adjust _everything we've ever fuckin' known_," he said, stressing the last words. He felt vindicated... for all of 2 seconds. Then Sam's face went pensive. Then Sam gave him another puppy-eyed look and he sucked his teeth in annoyance. He just knew Sam was mentally comparing him to their dad... or a caveman.

Sam waved a hand at his brother, annoyed he couldn't seem capable of engaging his brain _first_. "Well, get over it. Dad has been wrong before," he said blandly. He nodded shortly when Dean just looked away and didn't argue. Good. He was sick of Dean's automatic defense of their father; _especially_ when the man had been wrong, more than once. "I'm not sayin' you gotta have a Lifetime Movie moment with the guy. Just... stop trying to kick his ass. Or kill him."

"Fine," Dean said shortly. He was still pissed at Sam pointing out, _again_, the fact their father had been far from perfect. As if he didn't already know that shit. He flopped back on his bed and covered his eyes with his arm. He needed to think. He hated thinking; that was Sam's job. But he knew he couldn't pawn this one off on Sammy.

Yeah, his brother had a point about the little witch-boy but he was still wary. It was hard to ignore everything he'd previously known (especially since it kept him and Sam alive numerous times) and re-think himself. What if his dad had been wrong about other things? He groaned softly, unwilling to go down _that_ trail of thought. Not now. Probably not ever...

[]|[]|[]

Harry leaned against the kitchen counter, sipping at a steaming mug of tea carefully. His eyes were trained on the doorway, waiting for either of the Winchester brothers to walk through it. He almost hoped Bobby would beat either brother in there; he didn't exactly look forward to being stuck in the small kitchen alone with either of the younger Hunters. But he'd do it, and he'd plaster a grin on his face all the while.

He vaguely noticed the coffee pot give a final gurgle and he relaxed a little. He really hoped coffee would help. He was expecting one of the brothers to be sullen and grumpy, but still drawn into the room by his grumbling belly. The other he expected to shuffle in, bleary eyed but polite. Coffee would definitely help...

Only another minute passed when Sam shuffled in, headed right for the coffee pot, his nose lifted as he followed the enticing aroma. He poured a mug full and sighed happily as he inhaled a deep lungful of fragrant steam. He jumped a little when he finally looked up and noticed Harry. "Uh. Morning," he said, quickly taking a sip of coffee so he didn't ask how the wizard slept. The dude's hair was even more of a mess...

"Morning," Harry said with subdued brightness, recognizing that he wasn't speaking to a morning person. "Hungry?"

Sam only nodded, yawning widely as he folded himself into one of the chairs at the table as Harry turned around. He watched Harry open the oven and pull out a pan. He was confused until it was placed on a hot-pad in the middle of the table. "What's that?" he asked, pointing at something that looked a bit like a big mess of eggs. Smelled pretty good, though.

"Frittata," Harry said, focused on slicing the frittata carefully. He paused, "Are you allergic to anything?" Sam only shrugged. "Alright," he said slowly, sliding his knife around the outer edge and wiggling the pieces apart. "It's just eggs, cheese and a little bacon."

Sam sniffed and then chuckled sheepishly when his stomach rumbled. "Smells good," he said, raising a plate when Harry offered him a piece. It felt weird to sit down to a real breakfast but he wasn't going to complain. Especially not after he took a bite.

He kept his focus solely on his food when Bobby came in. From the corner of his eye he noticed the older man lean down and do something when he reached Harry (probably kiss him or something, _not_ that he was looking), and head for the coffee. He considered pointing out that Harry made breakfast but didn't. Bobby would find out on his own, eventually. Plus, he kinda wanted to see Bobby's reaction. He wasn't sure what to do when Bobby made a gooey face at the wizard and sat down with the look of a man more at ease with the concept of a home-made breakfast.

"Smells good," Bobby said, smiling as Harry dished him a portion. He sniffed the plate with interest. He didn't know what it was but it smelled good and he was starving. He grinned when Harry looked at him, as if reading his thoughts. He winked and tucked in, mumbling another 'good' as he ate, mostly because he enjoyed the proud little smile and minute chest-puff-up Harry did when his efforts were appreciated.

He looked up at the same time Sam did when Dean finally shuffled into the kitchen. The boy's eyes were half open and he zombie-walked to the coffee pot, scratching himself in various spots as he shuffled across the linoleum noisily. "Morning," he said pointedly when Dean only stood there, making out with his coffee mug. It was a little obscene, honestly, when the sex-like noises only got louder as he sipped.

Yeah, Harry made a damn good cup of coffee, but it seemed a bit extreme to be one step away from sticking your dick in the stuff.

Dean reluctantly tore his attention away from the coffee (it was so good! And... _there_!) and looked at Bobby. He managed a gruff "Mornin'," before he noticed there was food. Like, _real_ food. Eggs or something. He flopped into a chair and took a piece, not really caring what it was. He was eating a piece of the weird egg thing with his fingers when he realized he was being stared at. "What?" he asked defensively, absently wiping his fingers off on his pajama pants.

"Nothin', Winchester," Bobby said, a little frown on his face.

Dean realized there was a fork by his plate and picked it up with an eye roll. Who the hell cared if he ate with his fingers? "What's with the food?" he asked around his last mouthful as he waved his fork around at their empty plates. He eyed the remaining portion in the baking dish and narrowed his eyes when he realized Sam was, too. They ended up in a silent battle for the last piece, trying to out-glare at each other. He was older, it should be his. Sammy already was huge; he didn't need more food, the selfish dick.

"Hey!" he huffed when the last piece was forked up from a completely unexpected direction.

"Shut it," Bobby said, sending a quick glare at Dean, forking the last of the eggs onto Harry's plate. He was a little annoyed the wizard hadn't bothered to feed himself by this point (and he was damn sure he hadn't nibbled while he cooked, too). He glared at the wizard when his mouth opened, probably to protest, and pushed the plate closer to him. He pointedly looked between the eggs and Harry's mouth, making it very clear he was to eat. The damn man didn't eat enough and he usually took it upon himself to see that he did.

Harry sighed, barely resisting the urge to pout or give apologetic looks to both Winchesters when their sorrowful gazes were on the last piece of frittata. He almost split it half but one sharp look from Bobby had him cutting into it and eating it himself. He wanted to huff and pout, insisting he wasn't a child in need of supervision, but he knew better by now. Bobby was ruthless in his goal of making sure he ate and he wasn't in the mood to argue. He was lost in his own thoughts, considering maybe some sauteed onions for next time he made this, when he realized he was being spoken to. "Hm?"

"I said, what's with the Leave it to Beaver moment?"

Harry snorted, having a rough idea what Dean was referring to. "It's just what I do." He shrugged, unapologetic, not give a damn what Dean thought of his 'domestic' habits.

"Always?" Dean asked, half stunned, half suspicious. Sure, the guy made a banging dinner last night (which he and Sammy ended up eating alone after the whole... thing... in the kitchen) but he didn't know it was the dude's usual thing. It just seemed weird, mostly because he didn't know a Hunter (or any guy, really) that could make anything more complicated than sandwiches and canned soup. "Why?" he asked when Harry only nodded.

Harry shrugged again, looking at Bobby for a second. The older man only looked back passively, sipped at his coffee, and remained quiet. He nearly rolled his eyes, getting the silent message. Like food would endear him to Dean? He nearly snorted; it seemed like a stretch, even if the path to most men's hearts was through their stomach. He briefly thought of exploiting the man's love of pie. He could bake a mean pie—he learned from the best: Mrs. Weasley.

"Habit," he said simply. He didn't think Dean wanted to hear how he got into learning how to cook. Or how much he enjoyed the domestic task. (Or how he just couldn't help pleasing his man whenever he saw Bobby.) It wasn't like Winchester would be the first to poke fun at him for it.

Dean's eyes narrowed and he tried to figure out the dude's deal. He kicked Sam in the shin, subtly jerking his head towards Harry. Hopefully his brother got the message and took over the interrogation. He was sure Harry's cagey, short answers were because _he_ was asking. He didn't exactly hold it against the guy; he did shove a gun in his face, after all. He didn't know why something stupid like cooking was rubbing him the wrong way. Maybe it was the subtle hint of 'I'm staying' it offered. Or that it just reminded them that Harry had been around long enough to know his way around Bobby's kitchen and have the older man sitting down to home-cooked meals looking merely pleased, not surprised.

"I think what my brother meant is, thanks," Sam said, glaring at Dean for a moment. "We're just not used to this sorta thing," he said, waving a hand at the empty plates.

Harry nodded thoughtfully. He knew that; both from how Bobby talked about the Winchesters and just knowing other Hunters in general. "Mhm, which is one of the reasons I do it," he said honestly. He looked between the brothers, unsure if he should offer... He didn't want to sound like he was pandering or desperate for their approval. "Anything in particular that you'd like?" he finally asked.

"Pie," Dean said immediately. He smirked, expecting a refusal. Pie took baking skills and he was kinda picky. Instead, Harry only nodded—like he expected the answer. "And what's that thing with the ice cream, cake and fluffy white stuff?" he asked, gesturing a vague round shape with his hands and looking at Sam.

Sam snorted and smacked Dean, knocking his elbow off the table and nearly making the older Winchester fall out of his chair. "Don't be a dick. You're not making Harry make you Baked Alaska," he said, glaring back at Dean. He poked his tongue out when Dean scowled.

"Why not?"

"Because you don't deserve it," Sam said plainly. He ignored Dean's outraged sputtering and turned to the wizard, not at all surprised to see him looking amused but trying to hide it. "Whatever you feel like making is gonna be fine." The pot-roast and potatoes last night were so good, he didn't think it really mattered what Harry made—it would be worth eating. He elbowed Dean when he went to argue. "Really," he stressed when Harry only gave him a dubious expression. "So, what's up for today?"

Bobby leaned back in his chair, eyeing the appreciated Sam's effort of subject change and went with it. He knew it would take more than just a few hours for things to settle and he could be patient. Probably. Though Dean's continued attitude was making his trigger finger mighty itchy...

"I was gonna help Harry with some research," he finally said.

Well, it was the official reason the wizard visited, but they hadn't gotten a chance to crack a book just yet. He smirked when Harry coughed lightly, apparently thinking the same thing. Immediately after Harry arrived yesterday, he'd attacked him like a horny koala instead of cracking open a book. And then with what happened last night... They just hadn't had a chance. Luckily there wasn't any hurry, or emergency, so he didn't feel too bad distracting the wizard with a romp or two.

"On what?" Sam asked, interest immediately piqued. He turned to Harry, "Are you here just for research or an actual Hunt?"

Harry cleared his throat and tried not to squirm awkwardly. He had really only wanted to see Bobby—research being mostly a lie...er, convenient half-truth. He had his own impressive book collection and Hermione could find any of his books blind folded, as well, so if he needed help with anything he had a few options that didn't include him seeking out Bobby. But he liked seeing Bobby and researching alone (or just with Hermione's single-minded focus) was boring.

"Uh, well there's a Boggart causing havoc in one of the local old houses, but... uhm. I was mostly here just to see Bobby," he admitted, peeking sheepishly at the older Hunter for a moment. He couldn't help the warm feeling that worked through him when he felt Bobby's foot wrap around his ankle under the table and he smiled warmly when Bobby grinned, winking at him slyly before his attention went back to his coffee.

"A Boggart?" Sam asked, his brows scrunched together in confusion. He had heard of such a thing, a vague idea niggling in the back of his mind. But, as far as he knew, he hadn't ever heard of it being something to hunt, though. Harmless, _if_ they were even real. He thought they were just old superstitious mumbo-jumbo. Well, the fake kind of superstitious mumbo-jumbo.

Harry slowly turned from Bobby, nearly missing Sam's question in his complete absorption of watching Bobby drink his coffee. Was he doing that thing with his mouth on purpose?

"Huh? Yeah. They're a shape-shifting thing—sorta like a boogeyman? It changes into what scares you most, so it's different for everyone." He noticed Sam nodding, apparently having already known that. "Well, _magical_ Boggarts* are different. Mostly, they're just a nuisance when they pop out of an airing cupboard or musty attics. They're really only a problem when they've been around long enough. Somehow, they change—adapt in some way—and can start to affect an environment. Negatively. They wreak havoc on Muggles, especially."

And if left to go about their business too long and allowed to get stronger, they can actually suck energy and the very life from people. Since they only seem to affect Muggles, who don't _see_ them the same way as magical people, it was a tricky situation to remove or trap one. If the place they took up wasn't abandoned or public, it was a bitch and a half even getting to it.

"Oh." Sam's forehead wrinkled. He nearly asked what a Boggart would look like to Harry but quickly shut his mouth before he could do such a thing—it seemed incredibly rude to ask something so personal. Not to mention he didn't want to have to share what he thought _his_ might look like. "I haven't heard _that_ part before," he said instead. It was pretty damn horrifying to think about, really.

Harry nodded, fiddling with his fork. He needed to stop staring at Bobby's mouth or the way his fingers were absently stroking the rim of his mug... He tore his eyes away from Bobby's bobbing Adam's apple when he tilted his head back to drink the last of his coffee and focused on Sam again. Dean was merely listening, looking pensive and a little tense.

"It's a magical, non-creature sorta thing. Kinda hard to nail down, really, as no one can ever sort out what it _actually_ looks like. It really wouldn't be in any books you've got access to. And before you ask, destroying a Boggart is pretty much impossible since they aren't alive and even when they're at a point of sucking people dry, they don't have a form you can really focus on. You can get them away from you or distract them a few ways, though. But destroying them? No," he said, sighing a bit. He hated that part. He hated things he couldn't make sure were dead and gone, removing the threat completely. "Really, you can only find it with magic and some luck. Then, with more luck, trap it and seal it up for good."

"Wait! What the hell is a Muggle?" Dean asked, scowling, belatedly asking about the weird word Harry had said earlier. It sounded kinda derogatory, honestly. His scowl deepened when Harry immediately pointed at him.

"You're a Muggle," Harry said simply. "Sam's a Muggle, too. Muggles are just what we call non-magical people."

Dean's scowl didn't lessen but it didn't deepen either. "Oh, so even Bobby's a Muggle," he said, snickering until Harry only shrugged and nodded. OK; so then it wasn't a bad thing. "I see. And why do these Boogers especially wreak havoc on Muggles?" he demanded. He didn't like knowing there were magical things out there targeting Mugg—_people_ specifically.

"I think because Muggles can't see them like wizards can. _Or_ able to deal with them," Harry said with another shrug. He knew folklore said salt could work, and it did. Sometimes. But it only was effective if it completely isolated the Boggart in whatever cubby it was snuggled down in. It was hard to pinpoint, even with a specific spell, and the amount of salt needed to make an adequate barrier was ridiculous. And it wasn't like the average person studied Boggarts (or other folk 'lore') and knew that, either. "The danger only really comes from an _old_ Boggart, one that's been around enough to start craving the fear and chaos its presence causes."

Sam shuddered involuntarily. "Can we help?" He ignored Dean's glare. He wanted to work with Harry, especially if it was something kinda easy, and see how the guy worked. Maybe get to see more magic...

"No," Harry said, sounding apologetic. "And that's only because it'll only be visible to me. There really isn't anything you can do, so..." he trailed off, fidgeting with the corner of his napkin. He felt kinda bad that the first time Sam asked to help, he had to say no. He didn't know if he wanted to make Hunting with the Winchesters a habit, but it wouldn't hurt to figure out if they'd be able to work together if the need arose. He had a feeling, when it came down to it, they probably had similar methods and _could_ work together if they needed to.

Well. As soon as Dean stopped flinching whenever he even went near where they knew he kept his wand. He was not amused, not one bit. If Dean couldn't get over his aversion to magic, they wouldn't be able work together. He used magic as easily and fluidly as he breathed—he couldn't afford to go on a Hunt without his magic. Just a simple shield charm has saved his arse too many times to count.

He nodded to everyone and stood, quickly leaving the kitchen. He only really needed to look up the address of the house and then go. One of the perks of working at Bobby's was the laptop. He loved the internet.

"What did he _do_ to you?"

Bobby blinked, pulling his eyes away from the doorway. He should probably be embarrassed to be caught out staring after Harry but he was too damn old to be blushin'. "Huh? What did who do, boy?" he asked, glowering. Oh, he had an idea what Dean was getting at and it was already making his blood-pressure spike with frustration and anger.

"That witch. He has to have done something to you," Dean said, eyeing Bobby like he could see a spell. Or an enchantment. Or maybe some weird, lust inducing hex bag shoved down his pants. He ignored Sam's scandalized little gasp and leaned forward.

Bobby smirked. "Depends what you mean, boy. Harry does lots of things to me," he said plainly.

He didn't even need to leer to get Dean grimacing. If it would get Dean's brain kick-started to at least the level of a chimp, he'd list all the things Harry did to him (and maybe what he did to Harry, just to prove there wasn't anything funny goin' on and it was a completely mutual relationship). It would probably make the idjit green with envy—after he made his faces, of course.

"Aw, ew, Bobby!" Dean cried, waving his hands around. "You know what I meant!"

Bobby slammed his mug down, glaring hard at Dean. He was getting real sick and tired of having to keep explain' this...

"Yeah, I did but I was _hopin_' you'd take the smart way out and drop it. Do you think I'm stupid, boy?" Dean's eyes widened a little and he slowly shook his head. "Do you think I'd let that wizard near me,_ my home_, if I didn't trust he wasn't working with no demon?" Dean shook his head again, dipping his chin a little. "And do you think I'd be walking around, enchanted or doped up on some love potion, without either of you boys _knowing_ it?" He glared hard until Dean shook his head again. "Then what is your problem?"

"I guess I'm still just getting used to all... this," Dean said, waving his hands around weakly. Real, honest to god magic. Wizards. A gay Bobby getting it on with some dagger-wielding twink. It was just all a bit much to take at once. He made a face when Sam just gave him that 'you're so dumb' pity filled expression. "I didn't mean to imply anything, just trying to wrap my head around everything, Bobby."

Bobby grunted, recognizing it was as close to an apology as he was gonna get. Yeah, he could get that and he had to pray for patience so he didn't shoot Dean in the ass.

* * *

_(A/N: *I think I wound up combining a Boggart, Lethifold and a Dementor to make up my version of a Boggart... on steroids. Or something... I think it sounds more menacing and something worth gankin'.)_


	4. Chapter 4

_(A/N: Rated **M** for mature content and language._

_Thank you all for the reviews, favorites and follows. I'm thrilled at the response. Surprised, but thrilled. Heh.  
_

_Warnings: MalexMale slash. Lil' bit o' smut. Language. Mentions of: Violence/blood.  
_

_Enjoy.)_

* * *

Bobby tried to occupy himself with helping the Winchesters with their chores (refilling their ammo, cleaning weapons, etc.) but he was getting antsier with each quarter hour that passed and Harry still hadn't returned. By the time he figured Harry should've done his popping thing and been back an hour ago, he put down the sawed-off he was working on and went to see if Harry left a note with an address.

He had taught that wizard better than to run off without letting anyone know where he'd be. He breathed a silent sigh of relief when he saw a half-used stack of blue post-its on his desk; the top one had an address written on it in Harry's messy scrawl. He tore it from the stack and read it. Well shit. It was at least an hour's drive from here. He frowned, unsure what to do. Double shit.

To hell with this... "Sam!" he hollered.

"Yeah, Bobby?" Sam asked, walking into Bobby's library, feeling a little cautious. He hadn't said anything when Bobby walked off, figuring the older man had his fill of helping (or Dean's sulking). He stilled when he noticed Bobby's brows pinched with concern. "What's up?" he asked, immediately feeling it had to do with Harry. His eyes flicked down to the blue sticky note stuck to Bobby's index finger, looking at it curiously for a moment before giving Bobby his full attention again.

Bobby shoved the post-it at Sam, rubbing at his head through his cap and then scratching his chin through his beard. He huffed, feeling irritable; because he felt antsy and because he was gonna have to admit it aloud. "He shoulda' been back an hour ago," he finally said when Sam didn't seem to get why he was concerned. He didn't have to specify who he meant, thankfully, when Sam nodded his understanding.

"But, Bobby—" Sam looked from the note to the older Hunter, confused. "It takes at least an hour to get there. Let alone do what he's gotta do and get back."

Bobby shook his head, rubbing his hands over his face this time. Shit; how did he explain? At least it was Sam... Hopefully he'd only have to explain it once. "Harry doesn't always drive. He can sorta... pop places," he said, waving his hand around a little. Since he hadn't heard Harry's AMX* tearing up his driveway, he knew the wizard had popped off instead of driving.

Sam's face pinched in confusion, then in thought. "Like Cas?" he asked after a few beats.

Bobby grunted. "I s'pose that's the best way to put it. It's not exactly like Cas' thing since Harry can't go _any_where—there _are_ some limits—but close enough. So..." he trailed off, letting Sam work out the rest. It didn't take long, god love 'im.

"Oh," Sam said. Then his eyes widened a little. "_Oh!_ Does that mean something's happened?" he asked nervously.

If Bobby was right, and he had no doubts of it, Harry should have been back like a half hour ago, tops. Maybe sooner, since he had said it would be an 'easy' hunt. Bobby gave him a disgruntled sort of look and he couldn't help it; he snorted softly and shook his head a little. Apparently Harry shared the same sorta shit luck that followed him and Dean. Maybe a little worse, actually, if what Harry had told him earlier about his past was at all true (and he really didn't get the impression the guy had been lying).

"I don't know," Bobby said after a a few moments spent thinking. The fact that he didn't know was the biggest part of the problem. He tried to tell himself worrying was stupid. Pointless. But... he couldn't help it, apparently.

He was honestly unsure of what he should do... Did he run out like some fool on a rescue mission (that probably wasn't needed)? Or did he stay put and trust that Harry was competent enough to keep himself outta trouble? He knew Harry wasn't invincible (even if the ass acted like he was at times) and had, on more than one occasion, gotten himself seriously hurt. He fought the urge to fidget (or run outta the house and jump in his car) when the mental image of a bleeding Harry popped in his mind. He rubbed a palm into his forehead, as if that would get the image out of his head, and mentally cursed.

He was too damn old to fancy himself some sorta knight riding into a rescue... And Harry would probably be royally pissed at the implication he couldn't handle himself. _If_ he wasn't half-dead, laying in a pool of blood somewhere, that was. He grunted with annoyance and fought the urge to crush something. He paced instead, fiddling with his cap brim for a few turns before he made himself stop.

"What do you think?" he asked Sam. Sam could be counted on to be practical and he wouldn't be thinking with anything but his brain, so that was a bonus. He cursed under his breath when he only got a sympathetic look of uncertainty.

Sam shrugged uncomfortably and shook his head. He didn't know enough to have any real opinion. But he could see Bobby was getting upset, even if he also looked like he was trying not to be (and probably trying to convince himself to chill the hell out).

"What should we do?" he asked, nervously, not at all liking the fact that Harry went alone and he was somewhere without back-up. Bobby could say Harry could handle himself all he wanted, but until he saw that first-hand he'd probably want to follow the wizard on his Hunts for awhile. For Bobby's sake, of course. Everybody could use a hand now and then; he'd seen more than his fair share of tough, competent Hunters taken down simply because they didn't have someone watching their back.

"Not much we can do 'cept drive there and make sure he ain't bleedin' somewhere," Bobby said gruffly and pushed past Sam. It wouldn't be the first time he'd come across Harry in such a state, even if he hoped he'd never see it again. He didn't wait to see if Sam would catch up or not, but he wasn't at all surprised when he did. He gathered a few things before heading down to his truck. He tossed Sam his phone, "Here. Use that GPS thing and get us directions."

Sam just nodded, sliding into the passenger seat before Bobby could drive off and leave him behind. He had the address tapped into the GPS, setting it near Bobby so the man could hear the directions, before they sped onto the main road from the drive-way. He snapped his seat belt on and hoped they didn't walk into a mess.

The ride was quiet and tense but both breathed a little easier when they finally pulled up in front of the address, the GPS making a happy little ding as Bobby slammed the shifter into Park. They sat and looked out the windows for a moment before they both subtly patted themselves, making sure they were armed.

Sam turned his head when he heard Bobby grunt, an annoyed sound that sounded rather out of place for why they were there. "What?" he asked quietly, turning away from his window to look at Bobby.

"That." Bobby pointed a finger towards the house next-door. They both just caught sight of the back of Harry's head and shoe as he went around the back of the building. If Harry was walkin', he wasn't hurt. He didn't know if he should be relieved or not, though. He got out, vaguely aware of Sam doing the same. He was tempted to grumble, having spent about an hour in the car for nothing it seemed, but it wasn't like Harry asked him to come. He paused as soon as he rounded the building, though. "Shit," he breathed, taking in the scene before him.

Harry wasn't hurt but he wasn't exactly fine either.

The wizard was circling some sort of black, shadowy looking thing. It would look humanoid for a moment before it sorta oozed into a different shape; it was hard to keep track of it as it dripped and morphed into things that could be anything from dragons to bears. It seemed to suck light _into_ it and made both Hunters want to shudder with revulsion (and maybe a little fear). They both resisted the urge to rub at his eyes; it made his eyes and head hurt to look at it.

Was this the 'not-so-harmful' Boggart thing Harry had been describing? It looked very-much-harmful but he didn't know if Harry had down-played how dangerous it was. The urge to scoff was strong, but Bobby stifled the urge to make any sound; the last thing he (or Sam) needed was the thing shifting it's focus from Harry to them. If that was a Boggart, he knew there was fuck-all he (or Sam) could do to it.

Bobby inched closer, sensing Sam hanging back a little on his right side, and paused when the shadowy thing lunged towards Harry. It looked suspiciously like a massive, sharp fanged snake. It didn't make any noise as it darted and bobbed; the only noises came from Harry's feet in the grass and soft grunts of exertion when he moved. What the hell _was_ that thing? He inhaled sharply when Harry stumbled, but the wizard righted himself just in time to make a slashing motion with his wand.

Sam watched just as intrigued, but probably for different reasons than Bobby. He had never seen anything like the dark, amorphous shape in front of the wizard. He hadn't ever seen someone move and fight like Harry, either.

He noticed Harry had his wand out, instead of a gun of some sort, and he didn't think he was even breathing as he watched a bright jet of light stream soundlessly from the end of it. The beam of light hit the shadowy thing (it looked like a snake) where its head seemed to be. There was an ungodly shrieking sound and he clapped his hands over his ears on instinct, but they still felt like they should be bleeding. Or stuffed full of cotton. Harry only winced and backed away half a step, his wand still raised and aimed at the blob that was looking more like an upright rhinoceros (or something _big_ with a horn, anyway).

Sam blinked when he realized there was now a long, shiny, ornately decorated sword in the wizard's other hand. (When did he pull that out? And _where_ the hell did it come from?) The wizard rushed forward with a battle cry and did a flipping-kick sorta move. The shadowy thing was apparently solid enough to slam into because when Harry brought the sword down in a smooth arc, there was a smacking sound when they collided. There was another shriek and he noticed Bobby was covering his ears as well. He grimaced when a piece of the shadowy thing separated and plopped off, landing on the ground with a gross, wet little _splat_ sound.

Harry swung his sword again with one hand, while with the other he used his wand to blast the chunk on the ground with a _Stupefy_. It quivered once and then went still. Harry's attention immediately went back to the larger mass and he did a flipping-twirling kick this time, having to do a few since the shadowy thing was trying to retreat.

Holy shit, the guy was like a freakin' ninja!

Harry tried to tune out Bobby and Sam, knowing they were watching. He knew the moment they'd arrived: the Boggart hadn't been able to focus its shape. He was grateful for that, quite honestly; the distraction came at a truly fortunate timing. He could only hope they stayed back, though; they wouldn't be able to do anything to the Boggart (besides feed it). He had never seen one like this before and he hadn't been all that confident he could do anything to it. Stunners hadn't worked and he'd been unable to do anything else before it fled its cubby hole. All attempts at containing it, while on the run and loose, had failed.

He had truly feared it would wind up running amok, unable to be stopped or contained. In a last ditch act of desperation, he'd tried a strong _Lumos Patronum_ (hoping the bright light from the _Lumos_ would counteract the pitch and the happy thoughts from the _Patronum_ would affect the doom and gloom aspect of the Boggart). He hadn't been sure it would work... until the Boggart had shrieked in agony. On a whim, he had pulled his sword from an enchanted pocked and used it as well, pleased to see it had an effect as well.

Harry darted forward and sliced another piece off of the shapeless Boggart with his sword, _Stupefy_ing the newly separated wriggling piece with a quick slash of his wand. It stopped moving, but he knew it wouldn't last long. He grimaced and tried to get close enough to get the entire thing stilled.

"Fuck," he muttered when the remaining chunk of Boggart made a sharp swoop to the left, trying to escape again. He brought his sword through it again, grinning triumphantly when he managed to slice the damn thing in half. He watched two more pieces of darkness plop wetly to the grass. He quickly stunned them before making sure each piece he had severed was no longer wriggling and still accounted for. The last thing he needed was to split the fucking thing and wind up have to deal with several instead of the one.

"Holy shit!" Sam said, walking towards Harry cautiously. He had waited until the wizard had handled the last piece of _stuff_, but he probably wouldn't have been able to restrain himself much longer, even if Harry hadn't been done. He glanced at Bobby and scowled a little when he noticed the older Hunter looking at Harry oddly. He turned back to the wizard and grimaced when Harry poked one of the shadowy pieces with his wand. It moved like a piece of stiff jello.

"What the hell was _that_?" he asked. He watched with interest as Harry waved his wand and a dark wood box, odd symbols and runes carved into each side, popped out of thin air. Another few swishes and waves and there were more boxes. He counted five and assumed there was one for each chunk of... whatever that was.

Harry looked over, grinning mischievously at Bobby and giving him a cheeky wink before focusing on Sam. "_That_ was the Boggart. Stronger than I'd expected," he said with a careless shrug, levitating the weakly quivering, drooping bits into the boxes with a slightly wrinkled nose. Sliced and diced Boggart was probably one of the worse things he had ever smelled. He tried not to gag as the dark bits of Boggart slithered into the boxes, each making a wet sound as they settled. Ugh.

He hadn't expected to have to track the sodding thing down, either. He didn't even want to imagine what the damn thing could have done if it was able to just wander about (though, it had tried to keep to shadows, but _still_). He realized he must have been gone long enough to worry Bobby. Once his attention could wander, he aimed a gooey, warm smile at the older hunter and winked again when Bobby only scowled at him. He nearly snorted; he was completely fine and Bobby was only in a strop because Sam was there (and probably the only thing keeping Bobby from sticking both hands down his pants).

"Do you have salt on you?" he turned enough to ask Sam. He'd learned the hard way that salt was the only other thing magic couldn't conjure—too pure or some such rubbish. And, like the forgetful idiot he tended to be, he had run out of his own stash. He had to do better in remembering to keep his bottomless bag stocked.

Harry grinned when Sam nodded and pulled a large sack of salt from his backpack. "Always prepared, yeah? Brilliant," he said. He knelt and began to fill each box with salt, wiggling them to make sure it packed in properly. He wrinkled his nose and turned his head sharply when the acrid stink of sizzling Boggart drifted out of the box. Merlin and he thought it smelled horrible _before_! It stung his nose (thankfully, not literally) but he didn't stop.

"_That_ was a Boggart?" Sam asked, gaping a little and watching the wizard tap the last of the salt into the last box. He blinked when each box snapped shut on their own, heavy iron bands coming from thin air and circling each box seven times. "Wow," he murmured, watching as they all shrunk down to the size of a pea, one by one.

Harry stood, vanishing the empty bag of salt with a flick of his wrist. "Yeah, _that_ was a Boggart. Like I said, stronger than I expected it to be," he said, shrugging again. He wasn't surprised when he was pulled against Bobby's chest, but his breath rushed out in a harsh exhale when he was squeezed. "'M fine," he said quietly, rubbing his hands along Bobby's back in an effort to sooth and placate the older man. He reached up enough scritch his fingertips through Bobby's beard by his chin and smiled warmly.

"Not for lack of tryin'," Bobby grumbled. He slowly let Harry go, pleased to see his earlier panic had been completely premature. He shoulda known better... He shook his head a little and picked up one of the shrunken boxes, poking at it curiously and watching as it roll heavily in his palm. It was weird to feel something so tiny being so heavy (and kinda off balance, probably from the Boggart bits sliding around). "Now what?" He handed it over when Harry collected the others, rolling them around in his palm like dice as he looked off, his brow lightly wrinkled in thought.

Harry slowly looked down, staring at his open palm and studied the small boxes. Usually, he was able to stick them in another enchanted box and call it a job well done. But he worried that wouldn't be enough for this particular Boggart. "Not sure," he hummed. "I'll see if 'Mione can find a stronger containment spell."

He tucked the boxes into another pouch, hoping it would do until he could contact Hermione. He only hoped she hadn't fried another cell-phone... the Muggle devices didn't interact with magic well and she tended to forget that; one _Accio_ (because she lost it) or a _Reparo_ (because she dropped and broke it) shorted the damn things out. He didn't have the patience (or the time) to mess about with owl-post.

"Good idea," Bobby grunted. He'd been wondering how long it would take before Harry had to contact Hermione. He liked that witch; she was smart and tough as nails. Probably kept Harry alive more times than he could count, too. He turned to Sam, rolling his eyes at the naked look of curiosity on his face. "Friend of Harry's," he explained. "She probably reads more'n you," he added, chuckling when Sam's eyes went wide and his eyebrows shot up his forehead and into his shaggy hair. "Yup," he said with a snicker and picked up his pace to catch up with Harry.

Harry noticed Bobby's car. Ugh. He did not look forward to sitting in the enclosed space for over an hour but he was a bit too wiped to apparate again. He probably should've driven his own car, but he'd been in a hurry to get going. Oh well. He gave Bobby a side-long glance and let their hands brush together. "I didn't mean to worry you, but I was fine."

"I see that," Bobby said simply. "I woulda' called but you've been known to ignore it."

Harry shrugged, grinning. He either zapped the phones with magic (by accident), or he was ignoring the damn thing because he'd turned the thing to vibrate. And he rarely remembered the charge them. He did like the ease of the device, he just wasn't used to them just yet. Thankfully, Bobby didn't go on about it and chastise him for his forgetfulness or irresponsibility.

"I shut the ringer off. I learned that lesson the hard way," he said cheekily. Bobby paled a little and he leaned into him. He should've remembered it was only amusing to him. Well, _now_ it was. He had not been amused at the time, when his damn phone went off mid-stalk of a werewolf, and he nearly got torn in two when the sound alerted the werewolf to his presence and he'd been momentarily distracted by the sound.

"Sorry," he said quietly, rubbing at Bobby's shoulder for a moment. "And besides," he said brightly, tracing a finger down the buttons of Bobby's worn flannel, "Now I can sit next to you and do naughty things while you drive." He snorted when Sam made an _eep_ noise and flushed, quickly looking away and finding the tires fascinating. Oops. He almost forgot the Winchester brother was there. And close enough to overhear.

"Yeah, I don't think so," Bobby said shortly. Even if Sam wasn't going to be in with them, he refused to allow that sort of horseplay while driving. He preferred to keep all of his attention on whatever Harry was doing and he couldn't do that while driving (and making sure they didn't wind up wrapped around a tree).

"Call Hermione," he said, climbing into the car. He chuckled when Harry only rolled his eyes and scooted in only after Sam had slid in first.

**[]|[]|[]**

Bobby watched, his pants getting tighter, as Harry bent over. He didn't try to avoid looking. Or feel bad for doing so since Harry hadn't gotten hurt and showed off his impressive moves earlier. He idly wondered, his eyes following Harry's behind when he bent to sort magazines on a table, if Harry got a little extra fancy on _purpose_. It wasn't a secret that sorta thing got him all riled up. And he knew Harry knew he was there even before he saw him and Sam.

His eyes followed Harry's perky little ass is it went around the room. Harry bent. Harry vigorously wiped stuff down, making his body sway lightly in a (stupidly sexy) way that made him want to wrap his hands around those narrow hips. Harry crawled around on all fours getting things from under the furniture. And _then_ Harry stretched to dust shelves, his not-quite tight t-shirt riding up and showing his toned stomach. And a peek of that sexy little happy trail that disappeared into the waistband of Harry's jeans. He didn't think watching someone clean could be erotic, but... well. It was _Harry_.

He closed his book, not even bothering to mark the page since he lost track of the words ages ago, and moved to stand behind Harry. He should probably feel creepy just standing there, staring and inhaling deeply. But he didn't and it didn't take long at all for Harry to know he had company. He figured it was because they were so attuned to each other since he'd come from behind and hadn't touched the wizard just yet.

Harry knew because he had been watching the older Hunter for the last 5 minutes. He was pretty good at multitasking, especially when it came to keeping an eye on a Bobby that getting was getting worked up. "Bobby," he said softly, wriggling his bum back into the older man's front a little.

He snickered when he heard a soft groan and felt Bobby pressing closer. He was wondering how long it was going to take for his blatant arse wiggles and bending over would get Bobby's attention. He didn't mind crawling around on his hands and knees, but he preferred to have sore knees for other reasons. He felt heat rush though him as Bobby's chest pressed against his back, making every place they were pressed close tingle, his skin heating and tightening pleasantly. He pressed back a little when hands settled on his hips.

"What's up?" Harry asked innocently, proud of himself when he didn't sound as breathless as he felt. He reached up to dust at a strange statue of some bleeding saint. It was rather detailed, too. Creepy. He turned his head a little, gladly looking away from the horrible little statue. He was turned just enough to see Bobby's eyes flutter closed and his tongue swipe along his bottom lip.

Bobby groaned softly again and dipped his head enough to bury his face in Harry's neck as he pressed his hips against Harry's ass. He nuzzled his wizard's neck, knowing how much Harry liked the tickle from his beard. He managed to keep from making any embarrassing noises that wanted to come out of his mouth when Harry made a sound of pleasure in the back of his throat and pressed back. It was damn hard, though. Harry wiggled again and he chuckled. Oh, his wizard knew very well what was _up_.

"This," he said lowly, circling and rolling his hips a little, rubbing himself against Harry. He felt himself twitch with interest when Harry moaned in that breathy, little gasping way he did that always went right to his dick and made his mouth water. Dammit, it was glorious how Harry could sometimes (OK, practically always) make him feel like he was a dirty old bastard. Harry's hips did that sexy rolling-circle move and he groaned, his hands tightening their hold on Harry's narrow hips. He didn't think he had the patience to go very far... not if Harry kept writhing and moving around like he was.

And they had the house to themselves for awhile—the Winchesters were out scamming people for money.

"C'mon," he said, pulling an unprotesting Harry to the sofa. As soon as the back of Harry's legs his the sofa, he fell back onto the cushions. Bobby quickly laid himself over the flushed wizard, covering him entirely, and proceeded to kiss his breath away. He grunted softly when he felt Harry's knees sliding up his legs and squeezing his hips, caging him in and pulling their bodies closer together. He loved when Harry did that, too.

Bobby's hand wandered down Harry's chest, slipping under the hem of his t-shirt as soon as he got to it. He managed to shift his weight to his other elbow so he could focus better on lightly pinching nipples and caressing the soft skin over Harry's ribs and abdomen. He made his own sound of pleasure as he felt the ripple of firm, strong muscles under his fingertips. He really could spend an embarrassingly long time just kissing on his wizard, but he was feeling a bit more anxious than that.

"Harry," he murmured. Harry's eyes had slipped closed and he suddenly found himself staring in those dilated green eyes that never failed to send his pulse skyrocketing. The urge to say thanks was strong but he just kept looking his fill, taking in the golden flecks amidst the emerald green and the widening pupils. He felt like a sap, but he could stare into Harry's eyes just about forever.

"Bobby," Harry said back, as evenly as he could. He smiled when the older Hunter just continued to stare for another moment and he brought him down for another kiss with a firm hand on the back of Bobby's neck. He knocked Bobby's cap off and wriggled his fingers in the greying hair, sighing softly. Yeah, Bobby could get him going in seconds flat but he could just lay there, pleasantly pinned under him, just kissing, for hours, too. Bobby seemed to get embarrassed sometimes that they can be so sappy, but he liked it. It was nice to temper the wild fucks with the occasional Hufflepuff moment; it made it feel like a real relationship that way.

"Are you gonna do anything?" he asked softly, his eyes flicking down briefly to settle on Bobby's lips. He rolled his hips upwards and chuckled when he heard a shaky intake of breath, released as a grunting moan, as their clothed erections ground together. He wriggled again and they both made soft sounds. He preferred if they got naked but it wasn't required. Not when the friction of their jeans would be enough, especially if Bobby kept up that press-and-rest routine he was currently.

"Yeah," Bobby grunted, leaning back down and shifting. He kissed Harry and slid a hand down his chest and abdomen to rest on the wizard's tenting jeans. He pressed down with just the right amount of pressure to have Harry arching into his palm and moaning softly. Even though they were alone in the house and and even though he enjoyed all those sexy noises Harry made, he couldn't help himself from smothering that sound with his own mouth. He groaned when teeth nipped at his bottom lip and shifted until he was settled between Harry's spread thighs instead of on top of them.

"Wanna do it here?" he asked, his voice low and gravely. He didn't feel like getting up and he was getting to the point walking would be awkward.

"Fuck yeah," Harry said, arching into Bobby encouragingly. He wasn't looking forward to moving and he could always clean the couch later... He slid his hands down the back of Bobby's jeans, firmly grabbing each arse cheek and squeezing gently. He was just about to Vanish their clothes when there was a strange fluttering noise and Bobby went completely still, two of his fingers half-way down his pants. He groaned, wriggling in an attempt to get those fingers brushing teasingly over the tip of his cock to _go lower_. "Bobby," he whined, rolling his hips again.

Why the hell had Bobby paused like that? He turned his head, following Bobby's gaze, and his brows creased in confusion. He didn't think they were expecting anyone and the brothers should be out for hours yet.

Bobby cursed softly when he saw the familiar silhouette in his living room. Did he have no good luck left?

"Goddammit, Cas!" He felt Harry stiffen slightly and he tried to cover the wizard as best he could with his own body. Not like the damn angel hadn't seen him, though. He was getting real sick of getting interrupted, but he should probably be grateful they, again, weren't caught in a more indecent state. (Though, at this point, he was starting to care less about that; it would serve any of those interrupting

bastards right for getting between him and lovin' on Harry.)

"I was told to alert you," Castiel said calmly. He cocked his head a little at the sight before him; it wasn't something he had expected to see. Or anything he had seen before. "I did not realize you partook in homosexual relations," he said to Bobby before looking at the smaller man curiously before looking back at Bobby, waiting for an answer.

The was no judgement in the angel's voice, mere curiosity (as far as Castiel showed he was curious, anyway). But it still made Harry snicker with badly contained humor and Bobby bristle with irritation.

"Whatever," Bobby growled softly. "What are you 'sposed to be alerting me 'bout?" He was tempted to snap his fingers or something to get the angel's attention off Harry. He wasn't exactly happy with the way Castiel kept giving his wizard that 'bug on a pin' sorta look, his dark brows drawn together slightly as he observed. He also wasn't happy about how the angel's blue eyes kept moving and settling on the various places their bodies were pressed together. At least he didn't have his hand down Harry's pants anymore. That almost seemed... wrong to do in front of an angel.

"Sam and Dean need your assistance," Castiel said. He went back to observing the way Bobby and the other man were touching. He didn't think it wise to ask if other men did the same thing. He was only curious about _one_ man in particular and he was sure Bobby wouldn't answer him, either out of a sense of protection or lingering embarrassment.

Bobby groaned and eased himself up and off of Harry, helping Harry up as soon as he had his feet. Dammit. What the hell did those two get themselves into _now_? "With what?" he asked, shamelessly resituating himself in his jeans. Cas didn't appear to care (probably didn't even know he should be embarrassed) and he was feeling decidedly pinched, even if his boner was steadily leaving. Double dammit.

"I do not know. I was only told to see if you could offer your assistance," Castiel said. His eyes flicked over to the dark haired man standing slightly behind Bobby, "And you are Harry?" The man nodded. "Sam has requested your assistance, as well." He cocked his head again and studied the smaller man. "You are different," he said plainly. He didn't know _how_, though, and his brows drew together a little in confusion.

Harry simply nodded, unsure how to answer. Sure, he'd heard about an angel that hung around the Winchesters (mostly Dean) but he hadn't expected to ever meet the man. Being. Angel... whatever. He also sorta figured he'd already know everything, being an angel and all that... "I'm a wizard."

"Oh!" Castiel said, his eyebrows twitching a little. "Magic user, yes?" Harry nodded slowly and he couldn't help himself from stepping closer. He reached out a finger and touched the wizard's forehead. He yanked his hand back, startled by a tingly zapping sensation, his blue eyes wide. "I had not expected that." He looked at his tingling finger curiously, unsure how the wizard had been able to affect him. There was no pain but it was a curious sensation, nonetheless. He shook his finger and looked up at Harry with interest when the tingling did not go away immediately.

Harry smirked. "Maybe you should ask first before you go touching people and trying to poke into their minds, yeah?" He snorted when the angel merely nodded, his eyes still a little wide and alight with curiosity. He hadn't gotten any malevolent intentions but it had been a knee-jerk reaction to slam his _Occlumency_ shields up the moment he saw the angel's hand move towards his forehead. He was actually a little surprised it affected the angel, honestly. He cocked his head a little when Castiel rubbed at his index finger with an odd look on his face.

"Where are the idjits?" Bobby asked gruffly, getting Castiel's attention. He didn't like the thought of wasting time. Or the look the angel was giving his wizard. That 'bug on a pin' look was back and he felt the urge to step in front of Harry, even if he couldn't do dick against an angel.

Castiel slowly looked away from the wizard. "They are not far. I can take you," he said, stepping closer again and raising his finger again. He frowned a little when both men stepped back a step. "It will be faster," he reasoned. He didn't like riding in cars, but he would if the men insisted. He wasn't going to force them, even if his way was faster. And safer.

Bobby looked at Harry. "That's fine, Cas. Harry can take us. Just tell us where."

"Oh. That is interesting," Castiel said, his voice actually tinged with interest. He nodded his acceptance when the wizard merely stared back at him. "Gather what you'll need, I'll wait until you're ready." He watched the couple leave, talking quietly to themselves. It didn't take long for them to return, both wearing packs on their backs. He gave them the address and watched as the wizard grabbed Bobby around the waist and they were gone with a swirl of light and air and a muffled pop sound. "Very interesting."

Bobby stumbled a bit when they landed. Fuck he hated doing that popping thing. He didn't think he'd ever get used to the sensation of getting shoved through a drinking straw. Maybe he shoulda let Cas do his angel thing; the boys never looked ready to hurl when they popped in. He nodded when Harry patted him, an apologetic look on his face. He'd be annoyed but Harry looked a little green himself. Before either could say a word, they heard the distinct sounds of a fight and they both turned towards it.

Bobby wanted to sigh when Harry cocked his head and was off a second later, speeding towards the fight. At least his wand was out, the damn idjit.

* * *

_(A/N: *For those curious... Because old-school American muscle cars just sorta go with Supernatural... I decided Harry has a Saturn blue metallic 1968 AMC AMX... Yous should totally Google it. I wish I had one, all shiny and pretty, in my driveway.)_


	5. Chapter 5

_(A/N: Rated **M** for mature language and content._

_Thank you all for the continued follows, favorites and reviews. I'm starting to get nervous now... I hope this meets expectations. Heh. (Also, this is the last 'pre-done' chapter, so updates will be a bit slower from now on.)  
_

_Warnings: MalexMale slash. Smut. Language. _

_Enjoy.)_

* * *

Dean sulked on the sofa, not at all pleased to have Bobby's little magic boy sitting so close. Or touching him. He wrinkled his nose at the god-awful smelling gunk about to be smeared on his arm and shoulder. He grit his teeth and grimaced, preparing for a sting, but there was only a mild, slightly tingly, cooling sensation. Followed by the creepy ass feeling of his skin crawling. He watched with horrified fascination as his skin seemed to knit together all on it's own. He jumped when Sam's voice sounded right by his ear.

"That is so awesome!" Sam said in a hushed whisper. The deep gash, that had started on Dean's shoulder and went mid-arm, was completely healed; without stitches and in less than a minute. It was almost as cool as when Cas did his healing touch thing. He watched Harry wipe off the gunk a moment later, leaving only a slight smear of blood and a thin, white scar. "What is that?" he said, pointing to the little pot in Harry's hand. Obviously, it held the gunk he had used on Dean since the same stink was wafting from it before Harry stuck a large cork in the top. It _did_ stink but it was also freakin' amazing.

Harry tucked the pot back in his bag, vanishing it back to his room with a flick of his wand, and gave Sam a small smile. "Dittany. It's really the only thing I can use on you Muggles that'll work." He looked at Dean, matching the other man's sour expression. God, the git was so childish. He'd saved his arse _and_ healed him and he still sat there like a kid that got his biscuit broken. "It's healed," he said simply and stood, walking into the kitchen without another word.

Sam waited until he couldn't see Harry anymore, even leaning back a little to make sure he wasn't lingering, and smacked Dean on the shoulder once he straightened back up. His _completely healed_ shoulder—the ass. "Stop being a dick!" he hissed. He hurried to sit down next to his brother before he could start bitching. "What else can the guy possibly do to prove to you he isn't evil? Or useless? Or a liability? Or gonna hurt Bobby?" he demanded, not even bothering to pause so Dean could answer between each demand.

"Shut up," Dean muttered, ignoring Sam's deep set Bitch Face. Yeah, his brother had a point but he hated admitting he was wrong. Especially out loud. He had already been convinced when Harry blasted a demon off his ass, turning the bastard into a pile of ash in seconds. (And he was totally right; Frodo used his shrimpyness to his advantage when he fought. Which was... kinda wicked.) He hadn't believed Sam when his brother told him about watching Harry fight off the blob, but he grudgingly had to admit the dude had moves when he thoroughly kicked demon ass earlier. It didn't make up for being jumped by half a dozen demons, but it was oddly reassuring to know they had backup.

"I get it, alright, Sammy!" he huffed, pushing at his annoying little brother so he'd get out of his face.

Sam glared. "I wanna hear you say it, Dean."

Dean glared back. "Why?" he asked, refusing to admit he was sulking. He picked at the smear of blood on his arm, impressed and grateful he didn't have to be stitched up by Sammy. Or get Cas' angel mojo zapped into him (he didn't mind it, but it left him feeling weirdly buzzed afterwards and he never knew what to do with himself for a few hours). "Fine," he said between gritted teeth. "He's alright."

"Aw, Dean," Sam said, cheering up immediately. He slapped at Dean again, knocking his brother over and onto the sofa cushions. "You're so sweet," he said with a sappy smile, ignoring Dean's glare as he righted himself. The smile immediately dropped off as he smacked at Dean. Again. "But it ain't me you should be saying that to."

Dean glared at his annoying brother again before his gaze went to the kitchen. He huffed and crossed his arms over his chest. "I don't do chick flick moments, Sammy. Especially not with some dude that's probably gonna wanna hug it out and go all Dr. Phil on me."

Sam snorted, pushing Dean off of the sofa. "Shut up and at least go say thank you for healing your sorry ass." He rolled his eyes when Dean glowered at him and stuck out his tongue. But at least Dean shuffled towards the kitchen. Even if he was grumbling about chick flicks and stupid Sasquatches and touchy-feely Oompa Loompas. He sat back and settled himself into the sofa, his ears pricked for any sounds of yelling or fighting. As much as he wanted to supervise, he knew Dean would be tight-lipped if there was an audience.

Dean slinked into the kitchen, his eyes flicking all around until he saw Harry. He was sitting at the table, drinking tea. Again. What was with the dude and tea? He cleared his throat, getting Harry's attention.

"Dean," Harry said politely. "How's the arm?"

Dean's opposite hand came up unconsciously and pressed against the area. "Fine. Good. All healed up. Uh," he trailed off, rubbing at the back of his head. He pursed his lips, unsure what to say. He really was not good with this sorta shit. He scrubbed a hand through his hair irritably and huffed a breath out through his nose. "Thanks, man," he finally mumbled.

"You're welcome," Harry said, smiling a little. He had an idea Sam had kicked his brother in here but he appreciated the words from Dean nonetheless. He hadn't expected a thank you, quite honestly. When Dean just continued to stand there awkwardly, he had to bite the inside of his lips to keep from smiling. There was little chance Dean would react well if he thought be was being made fun of. "Anything else?" he asked quietly.

"Yeah," Dean said, stepping further into the kitchen and flopping into one of the chairs. He rest his elbows on the table and folded his hands together. He made himself look Harry in the eye. "I'm, uh, sorry I've been such an ass. To you."

Harry blinked, leaning back in his own chair in surprise. "I'd like to say 'no problem' but..." he trailed off, and shrugged one shoulder. "But, it's OK. Really. I get it." He gave Dean a small, understanding smile and sipped at his tea. He _did_ get it and he was still trying to sort out the motivation to Dean's apology. He had a feeling Dean meant it, of course, but he also knew he didn't come in here on his own. There wasn't much Dean wouldn't do for Sam, and apparently that even included apologizing to 'little witch bitches'.

Dean rubbed at his face, huffing out a breath again. He could appreciate (and understand) Harry's easy acceptance, but he still felt like a big ol' sack of dicks. "Yeah, but still. I mean—Sam came around. Bobby came around."

Harry shrugged. "You're a bit different, Dean. You've always looked out for them, yeah? It's understandable you'd be the last to be convinced." He nodded when Dean only stared at him, blinking a few times. "I get it. Really, I do. I'm glad we can move on, but I know it'll still take some time." And probably a bit of work, he mused to himself.

"Probably," Dean admitted, shrugging sheepishly. "It's not that I don't, uh, like you or anything. I just, you know..."

Harry snorted and nodded once, a smirk pulling up one side of his mouth. "Yeah. I know." He knew it would take a bit of time for Dean to fully digest everything and be OK with him. It was a lot to take in for a man like Dean and he _did_ get it. He didn't like it, but he understood it. "Will it help if you have my word that I would rather die than hurt Bobby?" he asked, looking at Dean with an honest but intent expression.

Dean pursed his lips and rubbed at his mouth as he thought. He'd feel more comfortable with that sentiment extended to all of them, but he knew that was asking a bit much. They were still practically strangers, after all. It was sappy as shit, but trust was a two-way street. "A little," he said after a few moments.

"Sam's growing on me, I'd never deliberately hurt him. Or you." Harry didn't flinch or blink at the hard stare Dean pinned him with. It was a little intimidating to see that flinty look in the man's green eyes, but he wasn't going to be intimidated that easily. He had faced more frightening things than an over-protective, glowering Dean Winchester... He merely looked back, keeping his hands wrapped around his mug as he waited Dean out.

He also wasn't going to vow his life or magic for the Winchesters (not now, if ever) but he could offer that much. He'd already done enough, in his opinion, to show how truthful that statement was. But he knew how protective Dean was of his brother.

Dean narrowed his eyes a little, gauging the little wizard for sincerity. He dipped his head in acceptance when he saw only the truth. He already had proof; the guy had jumped into the fight earlier when he didn't have to. It was a little embarrassing to admit that Harry had been able to single-handedly take out 4 demons, one of which had been nearly successful in choking him out—after slicing him open like a freakin' turkey. Of course, he soothed his ego by telling himself that the wizard had used magic. (Even if he had sliced and diced most of the demons like a freakin' ninja on crack.) He didn't _dis_trust the guy, but it would be a little while before he trusted him.

"Yeah, alright," he finally said aloud. He sat up when Harry stood quickly, moving towards the fridge. He watched warily as the wizard duck inside and narrowed his eyes until he straightened again. "Is that—?" he asked, wetting his lips and trying to keep the excitement from his voice. And not drooling. That would be really embarrassing right now, too.

Harry nodded and slowly slid the pie across the table. He had already cut it. He conjured a fork, winking when Dean stared at it dubiously. "Or you could get your own," he said, shrugging and just leaving the fork on the table. He probably shouldn't be using magic so freely around Dean but he was damned if he was going to stifle his magic around the Hunter either. He figured if he got the man comfortable with it, it would help ease things that much quicker.

Dean slowly reached forward and took the fork. He pinched it in his fingers and wiggled it around a little. It felt real enough. "Plate?"

"Really?" Harry asked with a snort. He had expected Dean to just tuck into the pie, eating it from the pie plate.

Dean just shrugged and stuck his fork right into the middle of the pie. He eyed the cherry filling, bringing it close and sniffing it. It smelled really good. And the crust looked all flaky and tender... Fuck it. He shoved the bite in his mouth and slowly chewed. "Wow, that's good," he moaned and hurried to take another bite. If his mouth wasn't so full, he'd ask where Harry got it. As it was, it was only important there was pie.

Harry just nodded, smiling a little. He nearly rolled his eyes. He knew Sam (and Bobby) had been right about bribing Dean with pie, he just hadn't wanted to have to resort to that. He figured since they'd had their moment, it wasn't technically bribery. As he watched the oldest Winchester work his way through another piece, he was glad he had dropped the subject and brought it out. Even if it was only a temporary truce, it was a start.

He looked up when Sam came in the kitchen and rolled his eyes when the taller man gave him a 'told you so' expression and smirked as he watched his brother inhale the pie in front of him. Sam didn't seem at all surprised to see Dean eating the entire pie—from the tin. He snickered when Sam shuffled forward—even he knew not to get too close or try to separate Dean from pie. He did conjure another fork, though; grinning when Sam didn't even blink or look around to wonder how or why a fork popped out of thin air and immediately grabbed it.

Harry just settled back in his seat, drinking his tea. He couldn't help but laugh when Dean stabbed at Sam's hand when the other man went to help himself to some pie. As tempting as it was to mediate, he just sat back and let the brothers argue, their forks clashing as they slapped, pushed and snarked at each other. It was amusing to see the two grown men quickly reduced to acting like little kids.

"Harry got it for _me_! Get away, Sam! Stoppit!"

"C'mon! You can't eat a _whole_ pie, Dean!"

"The hell I can't! You don't even eat pie!"

"Jerk!"

"Bitch!"

Harry snickered as the brothers resorted to hitting each other, Sam taking opportunities to stick his fork in for a bite whenever Dean left an opening. Which wasn't often. By his count, in the next few minutes, Sam got approximately 5 bites worth. One of which got smacked out of his hand and landed on the floor with a wet splat. Both Winchesters paused in their arguing long enough to look down, pouting, at the wasted bit of pie.

"Dean!"

"I said no, Sammy!"

"God, you're such a dick! C'mon! You seriously are _not_ going to eat a whole pie."

Sam huffed and scowled when Dean immediately quickly took two massive forkfuls of pie and chewed happily, his cheeks bulging like a hoarding rodent's. From the smug look Dean was wearing, it was obvious he'd be sticking out his tongue childishly (if it didn't mean the chance of losing some of his precious pie, that was). Freakin' stingy jerk.

Harry's eyes flicked between the brothers, hiding his amused smirk behind his mug. They, oddly enough, reminded him of the Weasley twins. They fought as often as they got along. They could actually come to blows but be completely fine with each other the next minute. It was a special sort of bond and he wondered how often people saw this side of the Winchesters. Bobby most assuredly; he'd heard plenty of growled stories of the 'idjits' arguing with each other like a pair of kids from the older Hunter.

He leaned forward and tapped the table, snickering when both brothers immediately gave him their full attention, hands raised and forks still pressed together like mini-swords. "I made two, you know."

Sam gaped, leaning forward a little. "Why didn't you say that before?" he asked with a huff and scowling a little.

"It was fun watching you two," Harry said honestly. He grinned when identical disgruntled expressions pinched the Winchesters' faces. It was a little eerie, truth be told. "And besides, I'd rather save that one for tomorrow, if it's at all possible."

"What kinda pie?" Dean asked in a rush.

"Apple," Harry said slowly. He knew it might be considered a seasonal pie, but it was still one of his favorites. He blinked when Dean's eyes fluttered closed and the man made a sound that shouldn't be heard outside of a bedroom and he licked his lips like he could taste the apple pie. Good god, the man did love his pie. "And ice cream," he added, unable to help himself. He laughed, sharing an amused look with Sam, when Dean actually shuddered and made a happy little humming sound.

"You are such a freak," Sam said, shaking his head with mock sadness at his brother. He was trying to glare at Dean but failing miserably; Dean still had too much pie in his mouth and his cheeks were still puffed out. He laughed when Dean just smiled, happy and content with the world now that there was pie, and shrugged unapologetically. He tried to sneak in another attempt with his fork but Dean wasn't distracted enough and deftly parried his next few stabs.

[]|[]|[]

Harry was at the kitchen table, the shrunken boxes of Boggart and a large dusty book in front of him. He didn't look up when someone walked into the room and he only knew it was Bobby because a kiss was pressed on the top of his head a few moments later. He groaned and stretched, sighing with almost erotic bliss when fingers pressed and kneaded all the right spots of his lower back.

"Thanks," he murmured, leaning forward to give Bobby's hands more room.

Bobby merely grunted. He knew how crampy it got sitting, reading, for hours. He looked over Harry's shoulder at the book splayed open on the table. "Find anything?"

"No," Harry muttered, closing the book with a _whump_. None of his books had any new, stronger, wards or containment charms and he had hoped this one would be the one that ended his search. Bugger. He waved a hand through the cloud of dust, banishing the mess before it could settle. He'd just got the kitchen habitable, he really didn't want to be the one that got it all dusty and gross again. "I called 'Mione, but I don't know when she'll get the message."

Bobby grunted again. Hermione was smart as a whip but the witch tended to be a bit scatterbrained when she was focused on something. Other things, like eating and listening for important cell phone calls, tended to fall into the woman's periphery and got ignored until she surfaced back to the real world. "Try again."

"I will," Harry sighed. He'd called Hermione four times and he was starting to get annoyed. And worried. He checked the time, his brows pinching as he worked out the time difference. Hermione was usually up late... "I'm calling now," he said, flapping a hand when Bobby merely looked at him expectantly. He dug his phone out of his pocket.

Bobby moved his hands up along Harry's spine, smirking a little when the wizard moaned and arched his back like a cat grooving on a thorough petting. He listened with half his attention, noticing the ringing through the phone's speaker. He really hoped Hermione picked up... he could tell Harry was starting to get worried. Hermione didn't usually stay out of contact this long, no matter how engrossing her subject was. Someone was around to poke and prod the woman into showers and meals daily.

"'Mione!" Harry shouted when the call connected and a distracted sounding Hermione answered.

"Harry!" Hermione shouted back, immediately recognizing the voice. She was laughing, delighting in hearing from her friend and amused at his exuberance.

Harry laughed and nearly kissed his phone. It was so damn good to hear her voice. "Did you get any of my messages?" he asked. He wasn't annoyed, he just wanted to know if he had to fill Hermione in from the beginning or not. He smiled when there was an awkward throat clearing sound. He was taking that as a 'yes, and I really, truly meant to get back to you' sort of thing.

"Yes," Hermione said, moving some books and papers aside until she found the notepad she'd written Harry's messages in. "Very curious," she added, looking over the notes. From what Harry had said, she couldn't think of anything further to contain the Boggart, even if the thought of it getting loose again made her nervous as well. "What did you want me to do?"

Harry's shoulders slumped under Bobby's ministrations and he nearly forgot he was on the phone for a moment. "Uh, a stronger containment ward." He poked at the sealed boxes. They were still tight as they had been but he noticed the iron was a bit rusty. "And a permanent preservation charm," he added. The one he knew did fade after awhile, needing to be recast occasionally.

"Yeah, alright. I'm guessing you've checked all the usual sources," Hermione said more than asked. Harry carried a good amount of books with him and she was pretty sure he was in America, visiting Bobby. The older Hunter had an impressive library, as well. Harry hummed in affirmation and she sat back in her chair, running a hand through her hair. She winced when her fingers snagged in some knots. Merlin, she really needed to do something about her hair... "Right, I'll look around—see what I can find."

Harry sighed, relieved. "Great. Thanks, 'Mione." As expected, the call disconnected just as he finished saying 'thanks'. He wasn't offended, used to the witch's behavior; Hermione frequently got 'into the zone' and little things like phone etiquette and manners tended to be the last thing on her mind. He was oddly pleased to know she was now focused on his task—an intent Hermione was a force to be reckoned with. He rubbed a hand over his face and leaned into Bobby's hands again.

"Hermione'll find something," Bobby murmured, rubbing on Harry some more. His hands strayed to grip and cup Harry's hips occasionally but there were no complaints. "I bet she's got more books than any single library."

Harry nodded. Yeah, that was probably true. With shrinking charms and a perfected 'bottomless' charm, Hermione really had endless space for books. And she took advantage of that. She even collected Muggle fiction, citing that fiction was often non-fiction to those without limited imaginations. He had been skeptical until she had raised a popular Muggle novel, a dragon on the cover, and raised an eyebrow. Oh. Right. He had nodded his consent and didn't mention it again. Besides, it was dangerous to come between Hermione and books (or even hint they weren't amazing). One really had to have a death wish, or maybe an urge to be severely disfigured...

"—coming?"

"Huh?" Harry turned to look up at Bobby, confusion on his face. He must have zoned out...

"I said, when is she coming?"

"Oh," Harry hummed, shrugging. "I dunno, she didn't say." He didn't know if Hermione would visit, bringing whatever she found with her, or if she'd owl the requested books and information. He hoped she'd visit, but he knew it was quite the trip to take on a whim.

Bobby nodded absently. He hoped Hermione stopped by; it had been a while since he'd seen her and he knew Harry hadn't seen his friend in a few weeks, too. The two were close and he knew it pained his wizard to go long without seeing Hermione (and that other friend of hiswhats-his-name). "Well, if your interested, the boys found something in Iowa."

"Iowa?" Harry grunted in amusement. There were still many parts of America he hadn't seen yet, and even places like Iowa (which he figured was nice, just... rural) shouldn't be excluded merely because it didn't sound exciting. Plus, he heard they had some interesting laws passed recently that wouldn't make things awkward if Bobby came along...

Bobby grunted, working a hand through Harry's hair and grinning when the wizard went limp and made a happy little sound. "Yeah, Iowa. Didn't get all the details, but they're headed out in about an hour." He knew Harry wouldn't need much notice; the man could pack with a snap of his fingers and his weapons seemed to sorta materialize from wherever Harry kept them hidden.

"Yeah, alright," Harry murmured, his eyes still closed as he sagged against the table edge. He was no longer achy or cramped up. But not he was all flushed and turned on. He sucked his teeth at the reminder of an hour. It would be enough time, of course... "C'mon," he said, standing and grabbing Bobby's wrist. He looked over his shoulder, winking when Bobby made no protest and just followed silently. Merlin, that shouldn't turn him on more, but it did.

Bobby followed Harry, wondering where they were going but not bothering to ask. He had a very good idea what was on Harry's mind and he wasn't about to protest. He'd gotten a bit worked up from the massage himself. He shifted himself in his jeans with his free hand and raised an eyebrow when he realized Harry was leading him outside.

**[]|[]|[]**

Sam checked the kitchen, finding it empty. He was pretty sure Harry had wanted to come along, so he was determined to find the wizard before they left. Dean could suck it; they weren't gonna just leave without at least trying to look for the guy. He checked Bobby's office; empty. He huffed and crossed his arms, trying to think where else someone could be without actually leaving.

He vaguely remembered Harry had a thing for sitting on abandoned cars... helped him think or something. He shrugged and headed outside, intent on giving the scattered cars closest to the house a cursory glance. He paused when he noticed movement in the dusty, red Fury. He should have engaged his brain, and save him the trauma, but he didn't. Instead, he snuck over, creeping along the packed dirt of the car yard as silently as possible. He was only a few feet from the Fury when his eyes widened and his face felt like it caught fire, and embarrassed heat flushing through his body in a dizzying wave.

Oh. Oh god! Harry and Bobby... were _doing things_... _in the car._ Oh god. His feet felt like they were glued to the ground, or maybe his muscles seized up from shock, because he couldn't move. Shitshitshit. He didn't _want_ to stand there, watching the couple go at it in the backseat of the car, gaping and ogling like a mega-pervert.

Though... it was—interesting... And he could really only see parts of Harry's (_naked_, ohshitohfuck) side, which was still wrong but not _as_ wrong if he were to see Bobby naked (the older man appearing to be fully dressed with only is pants lowered a little—kinky). He didn't know why but his inner nerd kicked in and he cocked his head, curiously, as he observed the new sight in front of him. He was still blushing and embarrassed as hell, but he was still struck motionless.

"Goddamn," Bobby groaned, sliding his hands up Harry's sides, bouncing over his ribs as his thumbs rubbed against both pebbled nipples. He wished Harry wasn't bouncing so damn much, because he really wanted to lean down and bite 'em, but he figured flicking and rubbing them would suffice for now. Harry seemed just fine with what he was doin', anyway. He slid his hands down until they were on Harry's thighs and he pushed and rolled them, adjusting the way Harry straddled him.

Harry moaned loudly, his head flopping back as the angle changed and pleasure zinged sharply through his body. "Fuck," he gasped when Bobby's hands settled around his hips, his long fingers pressing into his arse cheeks, the older man using the grip as leverage to help thrust. Sometimes he forgot just how much upper body strength Bobby had... He probably didn't even really need to move, but he wasn't one to just lie back and think of England.

"Goddamn," Bobby grunted again, his fingers tightening and his grip on Harry's hips when the wizard rolled his hips. Goddamn, that shouldn't feel so good but it did. Especially when he felt inner muscles clench around him as well as the sexy little hip roll. Harry shifted again so he could completely control the way he moved. Bobby was OK with that, especially since Harry was on top and things were tightening in the familiar end-game way.

Harry grunted something unintelligible and leaned forward, his mouth smacking against Bobby's in a wet, heated kiss. He slid both hands into Bobby's hair, tightening his hands in the sweaty strands and shifted Bobby's head to the side so he could deepen the kiss, sliding his tongue inside with a breathy moan. Bobby went willingly and he couldn't help moving his body faster. Fuck, he was so close. He unlatched his mouth from Bobby's only to wrap his lips and teeth around Bobby's Adam's apple and he sucked before nibbling gently. He smirked, his lips sliding across heated skin, when Bobby made a guttural moaning sound.

He was just about to attack Bobby's ear, demanding a 'helping hand', when he felt calloused fingers wrap around his cock and move in the perfect way. By the time Bobby was on the third pass, he was arching against his chest and moaning unabashedly, his fingers probably painfully tight in Bobby's hair (not that the man complained).

Bobby's eyes closed and he moaned when Harry bucked and came all over his hand and belly. Everything was hot, wet and tight and he wasn't able to hold out any longer. He tried to keep most of the embarrassingly animalistic sounds in, but feeling every single one of them as he came, pulling Harry down against his lap, and holding him still as he moved in small thrusts, until he was limp and sated.

Sam's eyes were wide and he felt like even more of a pervert, somehow, when both men finally stilled and it was obvious they were cuddling. He could see Bobby's hand sliding over Harry's hip and thigh, the caress gentle and light before disappearing from sight somewhere near Harry's shoulder. How _that_ was more awkward to see than the energetic car-sex, he didn't know. But at least the paralysis finally broke and he was able to sneak away before they caught him peeping.

OK, no big deal. He just watched two guys getting it on... No biggie. He wasn't a prude or a blushing virgin, there was no reason to make a big deal out of it. He could just forget he saw that and just move on. It was surprisingly easy since he didn't catch sight of any... parts... going into other parts... So that helped.

Still...

He really hoped they didn't linger because he didn't know how much longer he could stall Dean if his brother started bitching about wanting to leave. He still couldn't lie to save his life (especially to his brother) and Dean would hound and pick at him until he spilled his guts. He didn't exactly want to re-live the experience or deal with Dean's reaction. Whatever that may be (and at this point, he guessed it could be anything from childish 'ew' face to a suggestive leer as his brother rushed off to see for himself).

[]|[]|[]

By the time they got back, the trip to Iowa being a bust, they were all a little cranky and so done with being in the car. The research Sam did, and Bobby double checked, pointed to there being a Wendigo (or maybe it was one of those rugaru dealies... Whatever—it was something that ate people, was all Dean bothered with). But by the time they got there, some Canadian dude, with two ninja-worthy Katanas strapped to his back, had been dragging a few ratty corpses into a pit. They helped with the stabbing and burning, but it just wasn't the same. It was like being a clean-up crew instead of Hunters. Lame-o.

It had been hard not to appreciate the Hunter's help... but it was difficult to be grateful after spending hours in the car—for nothing. Sam had abandoned shotgun to sit in the back seat, talking to Harry—after a weird moment of blushing and quiet—nearly the entire way. (If he didn't find it supremely creepy, because Harry was with Bobby and all that happy jazz, he'd joke about Sammy having a man-crush.)

Dean slowed down considerably when he realized there was a young woman standing just outside the archway with Singer Auto Salvage in messy, mismatched lettering. She was studying the letters curiously but looked at the car when she heard the engine. Dean barely had the car stopped when Harry leapt out, screaming "'Mione!" and rushing over to hug the young woman.

Dean shared a look with Sam—they both shrugged at the same time—and put the car in park, getting out slowly. He wasn't sure if they should follow Harry.

He watched as Harry picked the woman up, hugging her tightly by the look and the sound of her squeaked giggle. He gave a small, awkward smile when she looked towards him and Sam when she finally found her feet again (Harry having lifted and twirled the girl like a doofus in a sappy rom-com) and looked over Harry's shoulder at him. He grinned at her merely out of habit when he saw a decent looking female.

At the sound of footsteps on gravel, he looked over his shoulder, grinning at a trying-to-hurry-but-not-to-run Bobby coming up the driveway. He already figured that chick was Harry's friend, but he didn't know Bobby knew her too. The older Hunter was smiling and looking at the two embracing with warmth, not a hint of jealousy on him (because, let's be honest, _he'd_ be a little sour if his dude (er..._girl)_ was hugging some pretty chick... (maybe not that so much)).

Bobby made his way past the Winchesters, noticing Harry and Hermione weren't paying much attention to anything but each other. They had their arms around each other and were chattering away, the pair of them not getting much past half-sentences and odd little squeals and giggles. It was always odd, and a little 'outsider looking in', watching them do their thing. Thankfully, they didn't do it often so he didn't get his panties in a twist. "Hermione," he greeted warmly.

"Bobby!" Hermione shrieked, gently pushing Harry away and launching herself at the older man with a giggle. She adored making Bobby squirm with her tendency of over-familiarity and open affection. And her acting like an over-excited _girl_ always did it. Of course, she was genuinely glad to see the man, too. She adored him and rarely got tired of Harry's near constant chatter about the man. She laughed softly when Bobby finally hugged her back, giving her back an awkward pat. "How're you?"

Bobby adjusted his hat and gave Hermione a small shrug, smiling despite his earlier embarrassment. "Still breathin'."

"Mhm," Hermione hummed softly. She realized there were other people with them and turned to offer her hand, smiling politely. Oh Merlin... Her smile almost faltered when she actually looked at the taller man. Oh Merlin... Tall, Dark and handsome, in the flesh and in faded, perfectly fitted Muggle jeans. She suppressed the urge to giggle like an idiot when he gave her a shy smile and his head dipped a little. "I'm Hermione."

Sam nodded, shaking the woman's smaller hand gently. "Hi. I'm Sam." It took him a minute, and Dean's very unsubtle jab in the ribs, for him to snap out of the daze he must have been in. "This is my brother, Dean." He didn't know what to make of the way the young woman merely nodded at his brother politely, Dean doing the same (and looking a bit put out that he was basically being ignored by a girl—a _pretty_ girl).

Harry snickered as he watched Hermione's cheeks pink and Sam's head duck again, his hazel eyes peeking out shyly from a curtain of hair. Oh Merlin... that was stupidly adorable. He tried to restrain the urge to giggle like an idiot, rolling his lips over the emerging sound when Hermione's head whipped around and he got a full on glare from the witch. "So, wanna see the library, 'Mione?" he asked.

He did laugh when Hermione nodded eagerly, her irritation forgotten. Of course, he made no objections when Sam offered to show Hermione the way and merely nodded his head in acceptance as he watched the pair head into the house. Dean followed, a few paces behind, looking between the two with an exasperated, yet amused, sort of expression. "Huh."

"Should I worry about that?" Bobby asked, meaning the very obvious thing between Sam and Hermione. He turned to look at Harry when the screen door banged closed behind Sam and Hermione, Dean barely making it through the gap and narrowly avoided a smack to the ass. It was weird to see Dean as the third wheel (and apparently the boy agreed, Bobby just able to see the way he flopped on the sofa with a slight pout). He really didn't know what to make of the situation and he seriously wanted to know.

Harry shrugged. "No," he finally said. Hermione would make it known, quickly, that she was a magical witch and he trusted Sam not to react badly. Plus, she was a grown woman who could take care of herself—even against someone like Sam (if needed). She was almost as deadly with a wand and weapon as Harry. (And he really couldn't blame her for thinking Sam was fit...)

"Alright," Bobby said with a sigh. "Any other surprises?"

Just as Harry was about to say no, the distinct pop of apparation had him closing his mouth. His wand was out in a blink and he turned towards the sound, in a slight crouch. Bobby didn't recognize who it was that arrived but he relaxed when Harry's wand was slid back into his sleeve and the wizard did his running-hugging thing again. His brows pinched, trying not to be annoyed at the wizard's touchy-feelyness.

Harry pulled back, patting the broad shoulders a few times to make sure he wasn't seeing things. And to get the dust off. "What— Where— Why—?

"Still eloquent as ever, eh Potter?"

Bobby's eyes narrowed at the snooty tone of voice and the mocking words but Harry merely laughed with delight and went in for another hug, patting the other man's back with loud, exuberant smacks. He stepped up next to Harry and waited a moment before sliding an arm around his waist. He wasn't exactly jealous, but he wasn't appreciating the excessive amounts of touching, either. He didn't have to wait long to be acknowledged, thankfully, or his ego might've been bruised.

"Oh! This is Bobby!" Harry said, leaning into the older man's side and resting a hand on his chest. He looked up at Bobby, briefly, with a beaming smile. "This is his place," he added when a pale eyebrow rose. "It's safe, so shut up."

Bobby held his hand out, surprised when the snooty looking young man grabbed it without hesitation and pumped it, firmly, twice. "Hello." He waited to see if he'd be given a name in return and was merely stared at, pale grey eyes looking him over critically. He nearly fidgeted at the intense gaze, especially when it paused at his grey hair and crow's feet, wondering if there were mind-reading attempts being made.

"Stop it, Draco," Harry murmured. He leaned into Bobby a little more and glared at the blonde when the corner of his lip lifted in a sneer. Like he was one to talk? The git still shagged Severus I'm-A-Bloody-Moody-Prat-For-No-Reason Snape on a regular basis. And Bobby was a thousand times sexier (and sweeter) than that old bastard, so Draco could shove his opinion up his arse. "So," he asked, interrupting his and Bobby's stare-down. "What brings you here?"

Draco cleared his throat and looked away from Bobby. He didn't at all see the appeal but the way he was standing with Harry was enough to show him the man cared. And that it was reciprocated by Potter, the sappy git. Ugh. He had quite hoped Granger had been exaggerating Potter's romantic entanglements with some old American Hunter. "Hermione is here, yes?" Harry nodded and he raised his hands in a 'there you have it' gesture. He rarely was far behind the witch. And he was quite put out to have to explain himself; Harry knew that.

"Oh," Harry said slowly. "So, you've skived off work and I'm a handy excuse, eh?" He laughed when Draco merely smirked and shrugged one shoulder gracefully. "How long are you staying?" he asked, curious. He hoped Bobby wouldn't mind some house-guests... even if he was pretty sure Draco would turn his pointy nose up at his 'tests', he'd pass them. Hermione's been through them enough, Bobby no longer felt the need to do them the moment she got close to the house. Of course, he fully expected her to be offered a drink the second they got inside...

Draco hummed and looked around the dusty yard, narrowing his eyes as he thought. Regardless of what Potter (or the charmingly glowering Bobby) thought, he had no objections. "We've a few days before we're going to be using holiday times." He wrinkled his nose a little as he took in all the dirt and rusty Muggle car bits. Charming. Really. "Why are we here?"

Harry clapped his hands with excitement and Bobby completely lost track of anything the wizards said past 'Boggart' and 'wards'. He merely followed as Harry led the blonde into the house, his wand out and casting a few subtle spells. He nodded, aware Harry thought him overly paranoid but not giving a shit, when they all popped negative. He wasn't surprised when they wound up in the kitchen, Harry going through the familiar task of making tea, the blonde watching with a critical eye even as they spoke about... whatever.

* * *

_(A/N: Yay! No cock-blocking angels! I don't know why I traumatized Sam like that, but it amused me. Heh. And it's Draco! I couldn't help it, he just sorta demanded to be involved in the story. I couldn't say no... He's a bit of a git, but still loveable. Oh. And I'm thinking Hermione should totally get it on with Sam. I'm still undecided, though. [Just imagine the long talks they could have! The stories they could swap about reckless idiots they have to constantly save... Nerd love with a side of smut? Heh.])_


	6. Chapter 6

_(A/N: Rated **M** for mature content and language._

_Welcome back! Thank you all for the follows, favorites and reviews. _

_I'm probably gonna shy away from the Sam/Hermione thing (though I appreciate the feedback, folks) since it's already a 'thing', apparently. Oops. I suppose that's my bad for not reading anything that ain't slash. Heh. So, it might happen__. It might not—I'm sorta leaving this one to the muse and just seeing where it goes. (I'm leaning more towards the 'not' though mostly just cause I'm a spiteful little shit.) Maybe t_hey could just be study-buddies; swapping study-outline methods and highlighters, getting off on dusty-book-smell together as they roll their eyes behind the backs of the foolish and hard-headed (*cough*HarryandDean*cough*).  


_(Mini-rant/message [feel free to skip and continue onto the story!]: _I've disabled PMs for awhile... Not a big deal—but it does mean reviews will go unanswered for awhile (sorry— I really do appreciate them!); so consider each one answered with a heartfelt 'thank you!'. I probably shouldn't let a few negative (well, nasty), unsolicited, messages get to me but I'm just too damn old to put up with immature shit from people that I'm sure should know better. If you have my e-mail; feel free to use that. Otherwise, my facebook page [link is on my profile] is it (as long as there isn't disrespect aimed there, as well) should the urge to communicate with me strike. Sorry for those reading this multiple times (but I think I love you for following/reading more than one of my stories).)

_Warnings: MalexMale slash. Language. Lil' bit o' smut. Lil' bit o' violence and blood/gore._

_Enjoy! :))_

* * *

Bobby just sat quietly, occasionally sipping his luke-warm, nearly-opaque tea (good lord it was strong—he feared for the enamel on his teeth), and watched the wizards talk. He knew most of what they were sayin' was English (and he could get Latin well enough) but he was lost almost as soon as they both sat down with their own steaming mugs of tea. How they managed to drink three mugs, _a piece_, he had no idea. Fools must have cast iron stomachs, though.

He mostly watched the new fella—Draco. He had heard a little about him before, but not enough to make his appearance (or his irritatingly snooty personality) at his home expected. Or all that welcomed. He was only appeased by the fact Harry had seemed genuinely surprised the blonde 'popped' by. He still didn't know what to make of this Draco character. He spoke to Harry in a condescending way more often than he had ever heard anyone else manage—without getting a fist (or a dagger) in their gut or a wand up their ass. Harry didn't take shit, especially when his height or intelligence were called into question.

Which Draco did, numerous times—with a stupid little smirk on his face.

Bobby's eyes narrowed as he watched the pale asshole sneer at something Harry said (or did). _Again_. What the actual fuck was the guy's problem? If he was so offended or pissed off, why did he continue to sit there and talk with Harry? Why didn't he just fuck off and leave?

"Because I'm here to help."

Bobby grunted in disbelief. OK, he hadn't meant to mutter that aloud, but still... Now that it was out there... He glared right back, narrowing his eyes at the blonde dick. If the jackass thought he'd be intimidated, he had another thing comin'. "How?"

"I Mastered in Ward casting," Draco said, raising his chin and sniffing. He eyed the old Muggle, debating whether or not to explain what a Ward was when he only got an unimpressed flat look in return. He glanced at Harry and scowled when he saw the idiot Gryffindor giving the cranky old bastard a gooey, Hufflepuffly, sort of look.

It took a moment for things to click and then he chuckled, unable to help himself. "Oh, I see what's going on," he said, rubbing at his forehead, suddenly uncomfortable.

Yes, he could see how the old man could think he didn't want to be here. With Potter. In bloody America... Over all, he didn't mind _that_ much—even though the America bit was pushing it just a little.

How did he explain, to a perfect stranger, the odd relationship he had with Potter? They _were_ friends. Good friends (possibly best— since Weasel couldn't manage to get his head out of his own arse and hadn't talked to Potter since bloody Hogwarts). He knew, from the outside, it did not _appear_ that way (and it was quite possible Potter had told the cranky old sod about their tumultuous past—which would not help explanations any). It was just the dynamic he was used to. And since Potter didn't get his knickers (oh Merlin, he hoped the git didn't _actually_ wear knickers—the kinky little bastard) in a twist about a sneer or snarky jab, he didn't change it. He was less vicious and there was truly no malice behind such actions any longer, though.

It was just... habit. And, really, he could appreciate the older man currently glaring death at him being indignant on Potter's behalf. Potter didn't have the sense to demand better treatment but apparently his Muggle just might.

And he'd try to work on it. Maybe. Before he could answer, Potter was reaching across the table and patting the man's hand. It was interesting the way Bobby's fingers immediately relaxed out of the fist they'd been in, but they didn't do anything as sappy as holding hands. Thank Merlin.

But his relief was short-lived though, when he realized _what_ Potter was saying. The utter prat...

"That's just how Draco is, love," Harry said with a snicker, waving a hand dismissively at Bobby. He gave him a warm smile, feeling all gooey—and like a completely smitten idiot—because Bobby looked ready to strangle Draco the next time the blonde's lip lifted in anything but a smile. Merlin, he was just so sweet. "He was born without a heart and his 'I have a soul' charm wears off every twelve hours."

Draco snorted a laugh, despite himself. "Shut it, Potter."

"No," Harry challenged, smirking when Draco scowled. He ignored the blonde and looked back at Bobby, resting his chin on his palm. "Seriously, it's just how he is. He can't help himself but he's got a squishy nougat core. Even if he tries to hide it under his complete prick-like attitude. He _is_ here to help. He works with 'Mione, so that's why he came. He can't let her go off anywhere alone," he said, aiming a smug look at the blonde.

Draco merely shrugged at the accusation. It was true, why deny it? He'd become woefully attached to Hermione over the years. Their friendship had started grudgingly when they'd been forced to work in the same Ministry department. It didn't take long for him to see why she'd kicked his arse in marks nearly every damn year at Hogwarts and he'd found himself starting to respect the witch. By the time she'd been nearly kidnapped, they were mates and he felt protective of her. Even after she'd taken care of her would-be kidnappers herself (and putting two of them, permanently, in St. Mungo's), he made it his job to keep an eye on her.

Potter flitted about the world too damn much (_and_ backed off, respecting Hermione's wishes—usually made at wand-point—when she refused to be 'taken care of'). It was pathetic really and Draco found himself amazed the Trio made it through their teenaged years alive and in one piece. Hermione, for whatever reason or motivation, did not seem to mind _his_ habit of shadowing her. Probably because he had actually saved her skinny arse a time or two.

So, naturally, a trip across the world would include him.

"I see," Bobby murmured, only slightly mollified. Was all that supposed to somehow make him feel better about the whole thing? Looking at Harry he got the impression the answer was supposed to be 'yes'. Yeah, he'd dealt with some major assholes in his life (he knew he wasn't always a bucket of unicorn piss) but he wasn't exactly bothered for himself here.

"Can you help?" he asked the blonde. He figured it was better than making some long speech about proper manners and how much he wanted to unload a shotgun into his skinny ass. He had a feeling it wouldn't make any sort of impression anyway.

Draco looked back at Bobby, raising one eyebrow at the old Muggle. He was still being glared at but it wasn't as... bad as it was before. Still... no warm and fuzzy feelings there, though. And really, he probably should have realized this would happen. Potter had the most annoying habit of wrapping people around his bony little finger. Apparently that went for grumpy old Americans as well.

"Yes," he finally said, trying not to sound irritated. Did the man not listen to a word they had been saying for the past 20 minutes? He either didn't understand or he'd been off in his own little head, probably daydreaming about kicking his arse. Or groping Potter's arse.

"How?"

Draco sighed and resisted the urge to snark something scathing about how a Muggle wouldn't understand the complexity of Magical Wards (and a look at Potter said he knew he was thinking it and would not approve). "I've managed to craft quite a few new wards since I got my Mastery... I'm sure I can come up with something appropriate for our situation."

"Good."

Draco huffed and glared when Harry snickered. The arse; _his_ talents or usefulness weren't being called into question... "As I was telling Potter, it'll take a few days to get them perfected." He looked up when Hermione and someone else wandered into the room, thankfully before Bobby (or Potter) could ask anything else. He raised an eyebrow at the tall Muggle, with his nose in a book, standing a bit too close to Hermione. "Hello," he said loud enough to get noses out of books.

"Hello," Sam said absently, turning a page. These books were fascinating and he was a little put out his time with them was extremely limited. And that he wasn't allowed to make notes or copies. Hermione (and Harry, probably) was already breaking a few laws even letting him look at it, though, so he really couldn't bitch too much. He slowly looked up, finally realizing he didn't recognize the voice. He didn't recognize the pale blonde sitting there, looking at him critically. "Uh, who're you?"

Draco smirked. My, Potter just found the most interesting Muggles... "Draco Malfoy." He barely had his last name finished when Hermione looked up sharply, closing her book with a snap, and glared at him. He shrugged unapologetically; she really shouldn't be surprised, or put out, by his presence here. He wasn't so stalkerish as to put tracking charms on the witch, but she was surprisingly remiss in engaging her cellphone's security features—it hadn't taken him long at all to go through her voice messages or texts. He twiddled his fingers at the witch in a cheeky wave and smirked.

"Malfoy," Hermione huffed. "What..." she trailed off, throwing her hands up, not even bothering to finish. It was no longer odd to have Malfoy acting as her guard dog these days and nothing she did or said could get him to change his mind or bugger off. Thankfully, he didn't _hover_ or be overly oppressive and it was bearable, most times, having him around.

"When did you get here?" she asked instead.

Draco checked the time. "Not long. About a half hour," he said and sipped at his tea. He was confused when the tall man looked around, a curious expression on his face. He didn't get to ask whatever he was thinking, though, when another person came into the small kitchen. He didn't look pleased and it amused Draco immensely to watch the man scowl around the room, his posture taking on a definite defensive stance as he crossed his arms.

Harry huffed and stood. "C'mon 'Mione. And Draco," he said and headed outside before anyone could say another word. Thankfully, his friends followed without hesitation. "Sorry," he said, once they were outside. He looked down, kicking lightly at the gravel and slid his hands in his back pockets. "That was Dean. He's still adjusting to magic..."

"Dean," Hermione and Draco said at the same time, the same 'explain' inflection in their voices. They shared a grin and looked back at Harry, puzzled to see him glaring at them both.

Harry rubbed his palm into his forehead. He was starting to get a headache and he had no idea what Bobby was going to say, let alone Sam and Dean. Sam, he wasn't as worried about—he was, unsurprisingly, easy to get along with and took many new things in stride. "Dean is—" He broke off, unsure how to explain. "You've both met plenty of Hunters?" They both nodded. "Well, he's the quintessential Hunter. Kill it, ask question later. We're still... getting used to each other."

"Oh," Hermione said slowly. Well, that made sense. "And he's Sam's brother?" she asked, raising an eyebrow. There was a slight family resemblance but past that... She hadn't known Sam long, but she could already tell there were some marked differences between the two. She watched Harry nod and hummed thoughtfully.

"Has there been blood shed?" she asked, trying not to scowl. Or smirk. Obviously, they hadn't killed or maimed each other yet, but the image it brought was humorous and infuriating at the same time. Harry was deceptively deadly and she would bet all the Galleons in her vault Dean hadn't anticipated that.

Harry nodded sadly, looking back at the house. "Sorta," he said. "There was an... incident. But we've mostly been on neutral standing recently. I don't think he wants to kill me so much as he just doesn't trust me. Being around Bobby and all that," he added when they both looked at him curiously. He shrugged to show it didn't bother him.

"Well, it's his problem, Potter," Draco sniffed. "If he can't see—" He shook his head, not at all comfortable talking about feelings and all that shit with Potter and Hermione. It was obvious to anyone Harry wouldn't do anything, or allow anything to happen, to Bobby. "Anyway," he said, clearing his throat and looking at Hermione. "Did you find anything?"

Hermione shrugged. "No, but we just got here. I say we get some food and I'll sort through the books after dinner." She grinned slowly and nearly cackled with glee when both wizards gave her a pained, wary look. They really should be used to her research methods by now. And this way, there were three other helpers to give them a hand.

She turned on her heel and walked towards the house. "C'mon!" she huffed when they didn't follow.

**[]|[]|[]**

Harry cleared the last plate to the sink and set the lot to wash with a flick of his wand. Merlin, it felt good to be able to do that freely. He didn't mind doing chores the Muggle way, but magic was so much easier and faster. Plus, he liked to keep his charm skills honed. He snickered when even Dean looked impressed as the dishes washed and dried themselves.

"Alright," Hermione said as she entered the room, getting everyone's attention off of the sink. She had a large stack of books in her arms, they were precariously balanced and were piled up past her head. Unsurprisingly, Sam was the first one up and grabbing a few to lighten the witch's load. "Thank you," she huffed, setting the rest of the stack on the table. She started dividing the stack amongst the seated men, glaring sharply when Dean made to open his mouth. "You read Latin?"

Dean fidgeted and shrugged awkwardly. He could, probably, but that was Sammy's forte. It was tempting to say no but he didn't want to look like an idiot. And he was pretty sure the woman would just give him something else to do—and he was sure it would somehow be worse than looking through huge ass, dusty books. "Not really," he finally said when Sam kicked at him.

"Right," Hermione said, switching out the books in front of Dean with different ones. Most were magical but there wasn't any help for it now. She took the largest stack for herself and sat down. "I'm sure you all know what we're looking for?" Once again, Dean was the one that looked lost. "Containment. Preservation," she said, keeping her tone polite. She knew the man wasn't stupid, but he was definitely trying to get out of research. As if.

Dean nodded and ignored Sam's snicker. "Uh." He scowled when the woman looked over at him, a look of supreme patience and annoyance on her face. How the hell did she do that? "I was just gonna say we already checked these books."

"No, you didn't," Hermione said, resisting the urge to roll her eyes. "I brought these from my personal library." She raised an eyebrow, waiting for Dean to try another tactic. He didn't; he huffed and yanked the book cover open and slumped in his seat as he started reading. She looked around and nodded with satisfaction when she saw all heads bent studiously over books.

It was over an hour later when Sam made an excited sound and pushed his book over towards Hermione and Draco, the pair sitting close together. "I think I found something," he said excitedly. He let go of the book and watched as Draco and Hermione both bent over the book, their heads nearly touching. He waited patiently as they read through the lengthy section he found. He slapped at Dean when his brother poked him and kicked at his bouncing leg.

"Well?" he asked, chewing on his thumbnail as he looked between the two anxiously.

"It's definitely on the right track," Hermione said, seeing Draco nod his agreement. She gave Sam a smile. "But I want to keep looking," she said, ignoring the chorus of groans. "Merlin, such whiners!" she huffed. "Harry, maybe some tea?" she asked, looking up at him hopefully. She'd go, but she didn't know Bobby's kitchen and she didn't think he'd appreciate her banging around in there.

Harry nodded and gratefully pushed back from the table. He stretched, grunting softly as things popped. He winked at Bobby as he got up, having noticed the older man's gaze on him instead of his book. He got the tea started, but got a few beers out for the Winchesters and Bobby, knowing they would prefer it over tea. It didn't take long enough to get the tea made and he divided out the mugs and bottles of beer, sitting back down and blowing on his tea. "So, did either of you take a look?"

"I did," Draco said absently. He was reading as he sipped at his tea. He had poked at the boxes containing the Boggart. He agreed with Potter: it needed better, more permanent, containment (even though Potter had done a more than adequate job of it). It was a very curious thing and he could only imagine how he was going to personalize a ward for the damn thing. The magic here was... raw and almost irritable. He looked up at rubbed at the back of his neck. "I'll need to be here for at least three weeks," he said.

Harry nodded but he saw Bobby tense. He laid a hand on his knee and gently squeezed. He knew the man was not looking forward to more time around Draco. He held a finger up at the blonde and leaned into Bobby, dropping his voice into a whisper. "Is that alright?" he asked. He really didn't want Draco staying somewhere unknown and the blonde couldn't pop back and forth across the continents. Part of the reason Draco needed to stay was to get his magic adapted to the area and to get in-depth readings on the area.

"No, but it'll have to do, won't it?" Bobby muttered back. He didn't want to open his home to ungrateful strangers, but he knew Harry wouldn't ask unless it was important. He sighed when Harry gave him a look that meant he was trying to think of something else that wouldn't suck so fucking much. And failing stupendously. "It's fine," he grunted. "I've had worse house guests," he said, trying not to look at anyone in particular.

Harry nodded again and slid a hand behind Bobby's neck. "I know it's hard to tell, but he does have manners. We probably won't even know he's here... unless you need the bathroom. The git spends more time in front of a mirror than a teenaged girl." He smiled when Bobby snorted a laugh. He knew Bobby had already agreed, but he didn't want the man regretting his decision later. "But he knows the best heating charms so they're never a shortage of hot water."

"Really?" Bobby murmured, unable to help himself. He liked taking hot, steamy showers. Especially with Harry. The thought that they wouldn't have to rush the end parts because the water suddenly turned colder than a witches tit was very good. It might even balance out the snooty dick's attitude. Maybe. He felt Harry nod and he grunted softly as he yanked Harry closer, nipping at his ear lobe. "Good."

He didn't say anything in protest when Harry immediately pulled away. Not since he saw the way Harry's neck was pinking and the way his wizard licked at his bottom lip. He watched Harry hurry into the kitchen and counted to 10 before he followed. He thought it was kinda stupid, being as it was his damn house, but it was kinda fun, too.

"Unless you want my hand down your pants—in front of everyone—don't do that," Harry muttered as soon as he saw Bobby. He rolled his eyes when the older man merely smirked and shrugged, as if he wouldn't care. He had his doubts the man would stay so unconcerned, though; Bobby was not an exhibitionist and there was little chance he'd enjoy that sort of thing. Especially if Sam and Dean were amongst those present.

Bobby pressed Harry against the counter, leaning down enough to nip at his earlobe again. As promised, Harry's hand wormed down the front of his jeans at the same time the wizard moaned softly. He knew it was a sensitive spot and he was fully aware of what it did to Harry. He stifled a grunting groan in Harry's neck when the hand down his pants moved, curling and tightening with practiced, exquisite pressure. Shit, he loved how talented Harry's hands were.

He tried not to make a lot of noise when Harry's freer hand opened his pants more while his occupied hand kept moving in a slow, tight pace that had Bobby pressing close and pulling the wizard into a messy kiss. "Shit," he muttered when he felt the way Harry managed to gently press that spot behind _and_ cradle his balls at the same time. His head flopped forward with a moan.

Harry watched Bobby and tried not to chuckle at his shocked expression. His amusement was fleeting, anyway, once Bobby's eyes fluttered closed and the older man made that guttural grunting moaning sound as he worked him up, tight and slick, in his fist. He leaned in and kissed along Bobby's neck, unable to keep himself from murmuring in his ear. He wriggled closer, changing the angle a little, and readily accepted another kiss, taking a moment to nip and pull on Bobby's bottom lip.

Bobby made another embarrassing sound and he had to grab onto Harry's hips to help steady himself. He looked down briefly, amazed to see Harry's hand up to his forearm was down his pants and flexing as he did that thing with his palm and wrist, hot bolts of pleasure going through his body and pooling in his belly. He slid his hands around, palming Harry's ass and pulling him closer. It kinda smooshed them together and he figured Harry would have a harder time maneuvering but it didn't deter his wizard at all. It only made him moan against his ear as he got some friction, too.

Harry panted softly, trying to muffle the sound before it could become louder. There were people only a room away, after all, and he hadn't thought to put up a privacy charm. He doubled his efforts when he heard the near-constant quiet moans being puffed out against his neck, making his own sounds when lips and teeth playing along his neck. "Bobby," he murmured, working his palm over the sticky-slick warmth. He arched into the large palm that pressed against the bulge in his jeans and shuddered lightly at the pleasurable pressure. He didn't think he'd need much more than that at this point.

Bobby grunted again, muttering "Fuck" with a tone that was almost dismay when he shuddered and came in his damn pants. He felt a little bit better about the entire thing when Harry made a filthy sounding moan and did the same thing moments later. He didn't know whether to curse or thank god they were done when the soft sound of footsteps came from behind them. He groaned and flopped against Harry, pinning the poor wizard against the counter, and prayed whoever it was fucked off and didn't see the pair of them, panting, sweaty and with stained, ripped open jeans.

"Oh," Hermione breathed, catching the tale end of a toe-curling sounding moan and cursing herself for not coming in sooner. Damn! She couldn't see anything, not really. But the way both men were standing and the angle of their bodies... well, she was pretty sure they had their hands down each other's pants. Double damn! She jumped a little when she heard Harry hiss her name, he sounded pissed and a little embarrassed so she didn't linger. "Hi."

She rolled her eyes when Harry glared and set her empty mug on the table and walked from the room, twiddling her fingers over her shoulder as she left. "'Night!" she called out.

Harry groaned and let his forehead rest against Bobby's shoulder. Of all the people to walk in, why did it have to be the one person that was happy to just stand there and watch? Ugh. But he forgot to be annoyed when Bobby grabbed his face and kissed him, his fingers playing along the back of his neck. Once he got his brain back, he muttered a cleaning charm. They still looked rumpled but at least there wasn't any other evidence of his impromptu hand-job attack on Bobby.

[]|[]|[]

"Jesus," Dean breathed. He knew he should do something besides just stand there and stare, but he was too stunned to move. Since he didn't see Sam rushing forward, he figured he wasn't the only one. Plus, they weren't really needed—as annoying as _that_ was. "What the hell?" he muttered.

Now, he had seen first hand that Harry could handle himself (against him _and_ demons) but he really didn't think that chick was the same way. Maybe it made him a bit of a—whats-it-called— a chauvinist or some shit like that, but he really didn't think a girl (especially one as dainty as Hermione) could use a sword so well or make so much blood come out of a vampire. It was... kinda impressive.

"Should we..." Sam started but trailed off, gaping stupidly when Hermione beheaded two vampires at once with a graceful sweep of her sword. "Holy shit," he muttered. Was it normal to be turned on by that sorta thing?

Dean nodded his agreement; Holy shit, indeed. "What the fuck, man. Where the hell did these two even _come_ from?" He turned towards Sam and saw his brother shrug. It seemed like a moot point, really, especially since they were here with them now. And helping. A lot. He opened his mouth to give Harry a heads up—a vamp was closing in on his back, and quick—but the dude just spun around and there was another head rolling across the floor.

Harry looked around, straightening up from his slight crouch. He made sure Hermione was fine (a little bloody, but fine since it wasn't hers) and checked on the Winchesters. "Alright?" he called out, looking between the stock-still brothers. He nearly rolled his eyes at the pair, apparently stunned stupid from Hermione's performance. And she might've shown off a bit, but he _did_ tell them she was capable of taking care of herself. He never had to worry about watching his back, or being distracted by checking up on her, when Hermione was with him.

"Yeah," Sam called out. He shook himself out of his daze and wiped his machete off on a rag. He grimaced and let the bloody rag drop to the floor of the warehouse. He looked around at the complete mess and sighed. He hated clean-up but it needed to be done. They couldn't leave bloody body parts laying around. He looked up when Hermione and Harry both took their wands out.

Dean looked at the wizards, feeling a little wary as he watched the pair waving their sticks—er, wands around. "What are you doin'?" he asked, unable to figure it out on his own. He didn't see anything happening but there was a definite feeling of mojo building.

"Cleaning up," Harry murmured and then started chanting under his breath. He grinned when each corpse caught fire. He snickered when Hermione started kicking the severed heads towards the various burning piles. He absently held up two fingers, indicating a score. He glanced over towards the Winchesters and couldn't help laughing at the expressions on their faces as they watched Hermione practically dance around as she played a rather gory sort of football.

Dean just nodded and finally got moving, nudging things that should be burned towards the still burning corpses. It was kinda gross but he was really digging the efficiency. He tried not to make a face when Harry gave him a smug sort of look, as if the little jerk could read his thoughts. Freakin' Hobbit better not be using his hoodoo to do that, though.

He was surprised when Hermione and Harry offered to come along, both of the actually perking up a little when Bobby told them about the vampire nest. He didn't know Hermione was a Hunter (well, she called herself a 'part-time' Hunter—whatever that meant) when he first met her since she had her face in a book. And it wasn't just because she looked like the picture next to the word 'bookworm' or because she was a girl. It was the way she went off on the snooty blonde about animal (or creature?) rights, arguing that enslavement and slaughtering a species was inherently wrong. She even thought vampires and werewolves shouldn't be killed as a matter of course. It wasn't something a Hunter said, really.

So, yeah, he'd been surprised when she was all gung-ho about taking out a nest of vampires. He felt a little bit like a dope when she'd rolled her eyes and pointed out that vampires that made a habit of killing people (children, especially) weren't part of the 'normal order' and needed to be taken care of. Rational discussion, her preferred method, rarely worked when they got to that point and she was realistic enough to know a dead vampire was no longer a threat. He figured it was smart not to point out that _all_ vampires were against the normal order, but he knew that chick could argue and debate until she turned blue.

Even that Malfoy guy threw his hands up and stalked off, giving up. And he seemed to really get off on arguing and just generally being the epitome of a sack of dicks.

"Handy."

Sam nodded, agreeing completely. He grimaced when Hermione and Harry walked over, both of them heavily spattered with blood and... other stuff. He realized he and Dean were relatively clean, especially in comparison. He didn't know if that meant him and Dean were neater or just didn't do much. The bodies were all ash now, so he couldn't really do a count, but he was pretty sure out of the dozen vampires in the nest they had handled three each. Probably...

"Aren't you going to clean yourselves?" he asked, wiggling a finger at their messy clothes. They both made efficient work of cleaning everything else, he was surprised they had neglected themselves. Plus, he didn't want to hear Dean bitching about his baby's leather seats getting all 'goopy'. Blood was a bitch to get out of leather, but they did have plastic.

"Nah," Harry said with a shrug. "The fabric isn't ever right after I blast it with a cleaning charm." He liked the shirt he had on too much to risk ruining it. It had been a gift and he really didn't want to chance it.

Hermione snorted indelicately, shoving at Harry's shoulder. "That's because you're a brute and don't use the right ones." She rolled her eyes when Harry only grinned at her and with a few waves of her wand, swapped her clothing for clean ones. She'd still need a proper shower, but at least she wasn't going to be sitting in that coppery stink any longer. She did the same for Harry, giving him a flat look when he opened his mouth to complain. There was no way she'd be stuck next to him for the next while with him stinking and all bloody.

"Well," she said, twirling her wand and tucking it away into her messy bun. "Who's hungry?"

All three men just shared a look before shrugging. They could eat.

[]|[]|[]

"I'd like to thank you."

Bobby looked up, surprised as hell to see Draco standing in his doorway. He was temped to play dumb, like he hadn't heard, to see if the blonde would say it again. Instead he nodded and waved the man in. He watched as Draco inclined his head and walked into his library, settling into the only chair not covered in books without pause. He had expected the blonde to pull a face at the old upholstery or the saggy seat, but nope. He just sat and picked up the closest dusty book without a sneer, tsk or eye roll.

OK. Maybe the guy wasn't so bad. Harry liked 'em well enough, so that had to account for something.

"You're welcome," Bobby finally said, nodding his head a little. They lapsed into a comfortable silence, both going back to their respective books, for a few minutes. "So, three weeks?" He looked up and saw Draco nod. "That some number you just pulled outta yer ass, or...?"

Draco snorted softly. He could see why Harry liked talking to Bobby. "Basically," he admitted, shrugging one shoulder. "I do need time to adapt to the... unique magical energy here but I'm not entirely sure how long that will take." He huffed, shaking his head a little. "Potter managed it in under two weeks, but us normal wizards might need longer."

"Yeah," Bobby said, a definite edge of pride in his voice. Harry might not like callin' attention to his strength, but _he_ really liked it. He could almost understand the wizard's modesty, especially considerin' how some people reacted to him in the past, but he was glad Harry had stopped trying to dampen his magic or keep himself from using his magic fully. It had taken the idjit nearly getting his ass cursed off, and some hands-on personal encouragement, but at least it had finally sunk in.

Draco swallowed any reaction to the way the older Muggle's eyes glazed a bit and his posture straightened. As well as they got on now, he had no interest in that side of Potter and he knew if he asked any further, he'd get a clearer picture just how Bobby felt about that. Even if the older man didn't say anything, graphically, he didn't really need to.

"Is there really room?" he asked instead. He looked around, as if he could see the entire house. It wasn't a big house and there weren't many rooms. He certainly wasn't going to be locked in that coffin in the basement.

"Yeah," Bobby said, waving off the blonde's concern. "The Winchesters are used to sharing. Harry bunks with me and that'll leave the couch or the basement." He grinned when Draco made a groaning huffing sound at the mention of the couch. "The basement ain't so bad." It wasn't exactly cozy, but it shouldn't be too bad for a temporary place to sleep.

Draco cleared his throat, suddenly nervous and wishing he had waited to speak to Potter's Muggle when the git was around. "Would you be opposed to an additional room?"

"Meanin'?"

Draco huffed a soft laugh, his nerves smoothing out at Bobby's unapparent concern. He had almost expected yelling or outright refusal. "Meaning I'd like to add a room to your home. Temporarily."

"Sure," Bobby said with a shrug. What did he care? "As long as you don't hog the bathroom, whatever."

Draco nodded his understanding and went back to the book in his lap. He had expected more resistance than that... But it probably helped, immensely, that Bobby had gotten so used to Potter and his magic, he didn't even think it an odd request. It was hard to tell how long they'd sat in the dusty library, both absorbed in their books, when the distinct sound of engines was heard. He noticed Bobby check the time and scowl.

"Took 'em long enough," Bobby huffed out. He knew there was no reason to worry with four trained, skilled, Hunters out together but it wasn't something he was able to always rein in. He looked up when he heard footsteps and smiled out of reflex when Harry burst through the door. He must've pushed his chair back as some point because Harry wound up in his lap without any real problems.

Harry chuckled lowly when Bobby's hands immediately settled on his arse. He gently pushed them away, very aware of the other people in the room with them. "All done," he said, giving Bobby a mock-salute.

"Good."

"What took so long?"

Harry looked between Bobby and Draco, trying not to laugh, sorting out which question to answer first since they asked them at the same time. It was strange to see matching disgruntled expressions on their faces as well. "We got something to eat before we came home. Oh!" He sagged in Bobby's lap, suddenly feeling bad. "Did you eat?" he asked, fiddling with the collar of Bobby's flannel.

"I'm a grown-assed man," Bobby said trying for defensive and smitten and just about nailing it. "I can feed myself, you know. Been managing to for quite a few years."

Harry huffed and climbed off of Bobby's lap. Bobby hadn't starved yet but he certainly hadn't put much effort into it, either. "Draco?" The blonde gave a sheepish shake of his head and he rolled his eyes. Honestly. Grown men they were, but what sort of grown men didn't remember to feed themselves? "Are either of you hungry?" They both nodded and he resisted the urge to throw his hands up and just headed towards the kitchen. He really didn't mind but it was a little exasperating to offer and get grudging yeses.

Hermione followed Harry, happy to leave the Winchester brothers to tell Bobby (and Draco) about the successful trip. "Need any help?"

"No, thanks, 'Mione." Harry wouldn't mind the help but Hermione could burn Jell-o... and he really didn't want to have to Vanish inedible food when Hermione wasn't looking. Again. "So, I gotta ask—"

"No," Hermione interrupted, rolling her eyes.

Harry sucked his teeth and carefully flipped the burgers since they were starting to sizzle. "You don't even know what I was going to ask!"

"I do too," Hermione countered. She leaned against the counter and crossed her arms, giving Harry a dry look. "You're going to ask if Sam's tried to get in my pants." She tapped her chin, thinking. "Or if I tried to get in his," she added with a grin.

Harry snorted a laugh. "Alright, so you did know." He stuck his tongue out when she merely hummed with that 'I know' look on her face. When she didn't add anything else, he poked her in the side. "Well?"

"I don't see how it's your business."

Harry snorted again, poking Hermione a bit harder. "Touché. However, you ask me for details every time you see me."

"Yes, well..." Hermione trailed off. "Man-on-man sex is hot, so I'm going to be curious." She laughed when Harry merely hummed, a satisfied looking smile on his face as he stared off for a few moments. She really expected him to sputter or blush, maybe shove her about and call her a nosy cow. "And it's not like you'll actually tell me, anyway."

Harry hummed again, poking at a burger with his spatula. "Nope," he said, popping the 'p'. Not only would Bobby have a Hippogriff, he knew he'd never get Hermione to stop asking for more. She was a knowledge sponge and she needed to know _everything._ In his ever so humble opinion that did not need to include the (fantastic) minute details of his sex life.

"And for the record, I wasn't asking for details," he added, his nose wrinkling a little at the thought. He really hadn't any interest in hearing about girly bits, _especially_ Hermione's. Just... no. "Merely if there was something there."

"I dunno," Hermione said, shrugging one shoulder. "I guess we'll see." She grinned when Harry only rolled his eyes at her.

* * *

_(A/N: Can I just say how much I laughed when my spell-check had no problems spelling hand-job and squishy but didn't know nougat? I found that amusing and a little telling... Anyway, I didn't edit the hell outta this so I could get it up and out quicker, so please forgive any glaring errors.)_


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